Aunt Hetty
by JerichoSteele
Summary: Someone wants Hetty dead and they will stop at nothing until she is. Story includes entire team and there will be some Densi, sorry I couldn't resist. Rated T for some langauage and dramatic elements.
1. The Game's Afoot

This is my first fanfic ... in fact, this is my first story writing of any kind. So, please be kind.

Thank you pinaycana and NCISLAlover24 for your encouragement to actually do this.

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**The Game's Afoot**

The room at the Armani Hotel Dubai, in the iconic Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building, was the epitome of warm Italian-style hospitality. Zebrawood panels reflected the morning light as the sun began to slowly rise in the east, casting a warm glow to the interior of the lavish suite as its lone occupant reclined in one of the plush leather chairs that faced the large windows that spanned the entire length of one wall.

The man was enjoying his second cup of morning coffee, a simple native blend with cream and probably a little too much sugar, that was always a part of his regular routine. He always enjoyed watching the sunrise, no matter what part of the world he was in. The view from the Burj Khalifa was simply breath-taking, with the colors of the brilliant sky and the expanse of the city that appeared laid out at his feet. He had moved the chair over to the windows for that particular effect and his bare toes almost touched the edge of the glass panes.

Despite his opulent surroundings, the room's sole occupant couldn't help feel a little out-of-place. He enjoyed the lavish comforts of the _very _expensive suite but he would have been just as content in a hostel in Costa Rica. He wasn't at one of the most expensive hotels in the world just because he could afford to, although he could. It was purely business and in his business and with the people he dealt with, money conveyed power and power kept you at the top of the food chain. Staying at the top of that chain was essential to his line of work, it kept you in demand and, probably more importantly, it kept you alive. An international hit-man always had to be at the top of his game, and he was. _Always._

Taking another sip from his coffee, he laid his head back onto the back of the chair, enjoying the early morning stillness that he knew wouldn't last long. His last mission had gone off without a hitch and he was wondering where he would be heading next. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was sent on another operation; someone with his skills was never out of work for long periods of time. As he relaxed back into the cushions, he wondered where he would be going next. _Somewhere a little more exotic would be nice. Maybe Tahiti…or Bermuda …Hawaii! Now that would be sweet. Maybe I could squeeze in a little surfing if there's a good beach nearby. _

Realizing that the morning light was getting a little brighter, the man placed his coffee cup on the marble table beside his chair and slowly stood. He placed the .40 caliber pistol that had rested on his lap into one of the pockets of the soft bath-robe that clung to his muscled body. He stood up on his tiptoes and stretched every muscle he could, feeling a little euphoric at the power he felt in his body. Even though he was approaching middle-age, he could pass for someone a few years younger. His body did however bare the marks of someone in a very dangerous occupation. Several scares marked his chiseled body, some from blades, others from the bullets that had found their mark. But he had survived, due to either fast responding medical staff or by his own skill at repairing the wounds. He had broken more than a few bones too and some of those acted up when he had to work in extreme cold weather. His room though, was at the perfect temperature and for a few moments felt like he was on top of the world.

The tall man leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the glass. He looked down to the city below him and saw all the activity going on. He could see all the vehicles moving up and down the streets and even people as they walked to and fro. He put his hands in the robe's pockets and just rested there, looking down at the world.

A small buzzing interrupted his observations and he turned toward the sound. He knew it was his ipad, and it was signaling an incoming message. He walked over to the table where it was sitting, picked it up and quickly opened his message page. A frown formed when he saw it was an encrypted file, and that meant only one thing: another assignment. _Crap…I was really enjoying this "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" gig…I'll probably end up in some back-water sludge pit next. _Thought the man as he entered his decryption key and the file began to download.

The first page was the usual: _Full payment would be made upon completion_, blah, blah, blah. _Target must be eliminated with proof of death_, blah, blah, blah; all the normal information that needed for him either to confirm or deny the job. At the bottom of the first page was an icon that required an 'accept' or 'decline' response. The man touched the 'accept' with his finger and the page rolled over into the more detailed information about the operation and most importantly, the target. He scrolled through the page taking mental note of some of the outstanding aspects of the target: female … federal agent … former C.I.A. _(now that's interesting, he thought) _… speaks multiple languages … skilled in hand-to-hand … proficient marksman … considered dangerous … (_well, at least it won't be boring)_.

He flipped to the next section of the data, deciding to study to rest of the information in-depth later on. The next section had more detail: city and state target was now located in, home addresses _(wow, she's got several)_, and at the bottom of that page, there were several photos of the target. He selected one of the better photographs and then enlarged it.

In the photo, a rather small, petite woman with horn-rimmed glasses was seen. She had straight short cut brown hair that had a sprinkling of grey and she was wearing a very expensive business suit. She had a determined and serious look on her face as if her mind was constantly racing and searching for the answers to questions that may not have been asked yet.

A smile began to grow on the man's face that went all the way to his eyes as he took in the diminutive woman's picture. His target. The woman he had just been hired to kill.

He laid the ipad down on the table and picked up the phone sitting on the table. Slipping back into his cover of French banker Jacque Sennett, he pressed the zero and a pleasing female voice answered "Front desk, how may I help you?"

The man responded in perfect French, "Yes, this is room 424, I will be checking out today. Could you please send someone for my bags in say, one hour?"

"Yes, _monsieur _Sennett_, _I will make the arrangements myself," the courteous female responded. "I hope that you enjoyed your stay with us and will call on us again."

"Yes, I did and thank you very much for your gracious hospitality," and with that he disconnected the call, placing the phone back on its cradle. He glanced down at the photograph on the ipad, smiled once more before turning toward the suite's rather large bathroom.

"And the game's afoot", he said aloud to no one in particular as he headed across the room, grabbing his suitcase and tossing it on the bed before heading into the shower.

The ipad rested on the table, still open to the picture of the man's target. Down below the photograph, in official block letters was the woman's title, followed by her name:

_**Operations Manager, Naval Criminal Investigation Service, Los Angeles Division;**_

_**Office of Special Projects;**_

and her name … _**Lange, Henrietta M.**_

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Reviews will let me know how you feel about the start of the story and if you want more. Semper Fi.

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-JS


	2. Weird

I didn't post this in my first chapter but all established characters belong to CBS, NCIS: Los Angeles and Shane Brannon. All others are created by me, they are mine, my own, ... my precious. (sorry, I couldn't resist)

I hope you enjoy reading this story, I loved writing it.

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**Weird**

Los Angeles woke to another warm, sunny day, typical for southern California. The sky had cleared after a night that seen small thunderstorms roll through bringing a little moisture and cooler air into the valleys and hills. The rumblings of thunder had almost seemed to foretell what the day may hold, but surprisingly, the morning had broken clear and fresh, the rumblings of a stormy night quickly fading in the light of a gorgeous day. The air seemed fresher, as if it had been itself washed clean from the pollution that often brought a choking haze.

The condemned Spanish mission that served as the operations center for the Los Angeles Division of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, Office of Special Projects, slowly began to come to life as agents and analysts arrived to begin their day. The overnight shift began collecting their bags and belongings as the day-shift slipped in. Agents heading home to sleep, passed their colleagues who were downing large cups of mocha and lattes, just beginning their work day. Files and information about the night's activities were exchanged amid the simple greetings of 'Hope you get some rest' and 'Have a nice day' as team mates passed in the hallways and around work stations.

The front doors opened once more to admit two partners into the mission. The two were a staple around the Office of Special Projects as they were the most senior agents assigned to team Alpha, the go-to-team when something major happened. They walked in side-by-side, their strides matching perfectly, evidence of years working together. But they couldn't have been more different.

One man was taller than the other, and much more developed in his physique than his partner. Heavily muscled and standing at just over six feet tall, Sam Hannah was a very intimidating presence, but his smile was immediately disarming and relayed a caring but determined demeanor. He had unique ability to bring a bad situation to a physical conclusion or he could gently coax someone into compliance with nothing more than a few soft words.

The smaller man walking right beside him wasn't as physically imposing as his friend and partner, but his stride and presence was no less intimidating. His blue-grey eyes revealed nothing about what he was thinking and seemed to be constantly analyzing the environment around him for possible threats or enemies. Years of covert operations had given G. Callen an almost uncanny ability to instantly assess a situation and find the best course of action.

Fellow agents who saw the two walk through into the office were also pleased that these two were some of the good guys. Thinking about how much damage they could do to the world if they weren't, was not pleasant to contemplate. Bad guys, however, had learned that the two were an almost unstoppable force that would go to almost ridiculous means to bring them to justice. Some never lived long enough to see that.

As they moved closer to the first level work area, commonly referred to as 'the Bull Pen', their conversation or rather _debate_ caused some to scurry out of their way and into the safety of their own work areas.

Sam walked around his desk and dropped his computer bag into his chair. "Come on G., no way the Patriots have a shot this year. They've had their moment in the sun and you need to accept that."

"Really?" Callen stopped just behind his own chair and leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the seat. "Have you seen the stats on the new quarterback? He's phenomenal."

"It doesn't matter how good the Q.B. is, the Pats lost most of their starting line to injuries during summer practices."

Callen stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what are you saying? That the guys who weigh more than a car are more important than the guy who can throw a football from one end of the field to the other?"

Sam plopped down into his chair and interlocked his hands behind his head. "No, what I am saying is that without those guys who weigh more than a car the guy who's throwing the ball will get killed before he can throw it!"

Callen stood there, a wealth of arguments floating in his head, but before he could open his mouth to refute his partner, two very familiar voices interrupted him. And, apparently, they were having a little 'debate' of their own.

"All I'm saying is that there was plenty of room on that table for the both of them." Deeks walked around the corner in perfect step with his female partner.

She didn't look too happy.

"No there wasn't! There was barely enough room on there for Rose."

Sam made eye contact with Callen and mouthed the word _Titanic._

_Great, another argument about that movie. _Callen rolled his eyes as he took his seat and waited for the two younger agents to continue.

Deeks stopped and placed a coffee cup and small box of doughnuts on Kensi's desk. "Oh come on Kens … they could have at least shared the table." A smirk curled up in the corner his mouth. "Oh, I forgot, you don't know what the word 'share' means."

Kensi came to a sudden halt right behind the blonde-haired detective. Her face contorted as she tried to reign in her anger. "What!?"

Spinning around and stepping dangerously into her personal space, Deeks continued. "Take this morning, it was my day to pick the radio station and …"

Before he could continue, Kensi interrupted by holding her hand up, right in his face. "I let you chose the station when I picked you up!"

"And then when I went into the coffee shop to get your favorite doughnuts and the espresso you wouldn't stop begging for, you changed it!"

Kensi's arms folded across her chest. "So why didn't you change it back when you got back?"

"Because you made me hold the cups because you said I spilled some in your precious car the last time I got it for you! My hands were full!" Deeks was gesturing wildly, even his hair was moving. "How was I supposed to change the station? With my elbow?!"

Kensi's face locked into a glare that Sam felt from across the room and Deeks life momentarily flashed before his eyes. Quickly regaining her composure, Kensi placed her hands on her hips and coolly eyed her exasperating partner. "You did spill coffee in my car and the last time you used your elbow to touch my radio you reset all the preset stations, it took me a week to fix it!"

Deeks just gave her his most disarming smile. "Aww, come on sugarbear, I helped you reset your crazy techno stations and even had your car detailed because of the coffee."

Whack!

"What did I tell you about the stupid nick names?!"

Deeks was still rubbing his stinging shoulder where Kensi had just punched him, hard. "Owww…geez Kens, where's the love? Why do you persist in causing me pain?"

"You even look at my radio again and I'll show you what _real_ pain feels like."

Callen thought now was a good time to step in. "Are you two always going to be like this first thing in the morning? If you are, I'm going to need a lot more caffeine."

"Yeah, you two are ridiculous. Why are you always fighting about that movie?" Sam rocked forward, placing his elbows on the edge of his desk.

Deeks turned and looked the large agent in the eyes. "Because it's a fact: Rose let Jack freeze to death!"

"No she didn't!"

"Yes she did!"

"_No. She. Didn't."_

"Who lived and who died?"

Deeks was on a roll this morning; and it was seriously pissing Kensi off. "One of them had to die to make the story more dramatic," she said through clenched teeth.

"So it just happened to be the guy who dies?!" Deeks was trying to sound exasperated, but Sam and Callen could see he was trying to see how far he could push his partner this morning.

Kensi thought about counting to ten before she lost control and actually did kill Deeks, but he started this, and she was about to finish it, or finish him. Either way, at least it would be quieter. "He loved her so he let her live by giving his life for hers."

Sam grinned at the restraint Kensi was showing. "She's right Shaggy, that's very romantic."

"It sure is." Callen had decided to help bring this to a conclusion so maybe that could get to work. "Giving your life for the one you love is very touching."

"But if she loved him too…wouldn't she do the same for him?" Deeks just wasn't going to let it go that easily. He had been trying to make this point with Kensi every time they had watched the movie together.

"What are you saying, that you'd prefer that the guy live and the girl die?" Kensi's hands were gripping her arms so hard she thought she'd leave bruises.

Deeks turned slowly until he was looking directly into his partner's beautifully mismatched eyes. "No, what I'm saying is that when one goes, they both go. 'You go – We go'. That's what love is."

An awkward silence filled the space between the female agent and her blonde partner. Kensi was internally touched by what Deeks had said but she couldn't let him know that. Her scowl told him he may have pushed a bit too far that morning.

Suddenly realizing what he had said without really meaning too, Deeks tried to cover his misstep. "What I mean … is that what partners do, right? The whole 'you jump – I jump' thing…come on guys, help me out."

Callen just grinned brightly at the detective, knowing full well that he had painted himself into a corner with Kensi and she didn't look too thrilled about it. "No, I think you need to fully explain that before we go any further."

"I well … I was just trying … to … to you know…"

Sam actually felt a little sorry for the guy. _A little._ "Just walk away man, just walk away."

Turning from the blistering gaze of his partner, Deeks walked around to his own desk, careful not to even look in Kensi's direction. He was afraid that if he looked back at her, that she might finally decide to shoot him this time.

Kensi was still fuming from the 'sugarbear' nickname and the Titanic argument, but his _'You go - we go. That's what love is'_ had caught her completely off-guard. She was still stunned at how quickly their innocent banter had turned serious so fast. She didn't know whether he was just trying to get a rise out of her or if he was dancing around the un-named 'thing' going on between them.

She thought back to a few weeks earlier when they had found themselves in yet another shoot-out.

"_Deeks! Keep your head down!"_

"_Really Kensalina? These guys have shot at us for the last fifteen minutes and you think you have to tell me that?"_

_They were pinned down behind a large metal shipping container and the bad guys had no intentions of letting them get out of there alive. Sam and Callen were still working their way thought the warehouse, so for the time being, they were on their own. _

_Glancing around the corner and quickly ducking back as a hail of gunfire slammed into the steel just inches from where head had been the moment before, Kensi looked over at her partner. Seeing the concern written all over his face, she just shrugged. "What?"_

"_Are you trying to get yourself shot?!"_

_Kensi just shook her head. "They're trying to flank us. We have to move toward Sam and Callen before they cut us off."_

_Deeks suddenly leaned across her and pressed himself hard against her body. Before she could even process what he was doing and why, he squeezed off two rounds right into the chest of the gunman who had crept around to their right. When he didn't immediately remove himself from her, Kensi started to push him off. "Come on Deeks, off!"_

"_Don't get excited Princess!"_

"_Don't call me that!"_

_Slipping back beside her, Deeks scanned the area around them. "So, you come here often beautiful?"_

_Chuckling to herself, Kensi turned and glanced into his blue eyes, amazed that even in this bad situation, he would try to make her laugh. Looking around the corner once more, Kensi had a plan. "I'm gonna make a run for that other container…keep me covered."_

_Not liking that plan one bit, Deeks shook his head and grabbed Kensi by her wrist. "I don't think so Fern. We have to stick together. If we get separated in here, they'll pick us off one by one."_

"_Deeks! I don't have time to discuss this. Just cover me!"_

"_No way sugarbear…you go…we go!"_

_He had said those words with such absolute sincerity and confidence, Deeks had held her gaze with his pacific-blue eyes and the words he spoke had momentarily stolen her breath away._

"_You go … we go."_

Of course they had both shot their way out, the adrenaline high causing Deeks innocent profession to ebb away and be forgotten in the aftermath. But now, with her heart thumping in her chest, Kensi wondered if he had truly meant what he said and why it had affected her so much to hear those words again.

Kensi's mind found its way back into the present and she could her Sam and Callen ganging up on Deeks as usual, the recent conversation forgotten. The guys had found their way back into the football discussion they were in earlier, they had even drug poor Deeks into it. She dropped her bag on the floor beside her desk and as she took her seat, her eyes fell on her box of doughnuts and her coffee.

A small smile formed as she grabbed the cup and took a long sip of the warm liquid. It was, of course, just the way she liked it. She hadn't had to tell Deeks how to have it made, he had just known. And then there were the doughnuts. Sometimes she wanted plain glazed and at other times she would want sprinkles or even jelly filled. This morning she had craved chocolate glazed but she was afraid that he would tease her mercilessly if she had requested any, but then her partner had returned from the shop, coffees in one hand and a small white box in the other. She had looked at him like he was crazy when he waved the box under her nose, but when he opened it, she wanted to kiss him. There were four doughnuts inside, each glazed with thick dark chocolate, her favorite.

"_I got you four because I know you'll scarf down the first two as soon as we get to work and you'll want more later. So pace your sugar this morning Fern."_

She hadn't told him what to get, and he hadn't asked. He didn't need to. Kensi was beginning to believe that her scruffy partner knew what she needed before she knew it herself. As she sat behind her desk, the heat from their argument long forgotten, she started to think that maybe, just maybe, she was okay with that.

Kensi was interrupted from her thoughts and the boys were stopped in their deep discussion about quarter-backs verses linemen debate by a clearly agitated Eric who had walked down into the bull pen instead of whistling from the stairs.

"Good morning agents, detective. Your presence is required in operations as soon as possible."

Before anyone could even contemplate a question or response, the blonde computer tech had performed an about-face and hastily walked back up the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

Deeks looked as confused as everyone else. "To early for a whistle?"

"What in the world was that about?" Sam asked his equally confused teammates.

Callen pushed his chair back away from his desk as he stood. "I have no idea, but I guess there's only one way to find out." He moved behind Kensi's desk and headed toward the stairs. Sam jumped up and fell in right behind his partner and they took the steps two at a time.

Deeks dropped his backpack on top of his desk and fell in step with Kensi, their elbows gently bumping each other as they moved up the stone steps side by side. Before they reached the top, Kensi slowed and Deeks turned to see what she was doing.

"Thanks for the doughnuts Deeks."

With the smile that he reserved for her and her alone, the lanky detective waited for her eyes to meet his before saying, "Anytime sugarbear, anytime." And then they turned and walked together into operations, each giving the other a playful shove as they came through the sliding doors.

When the two partners looked walked into the room, they found Sam and Callen frozen in the middle of the room, looking at the back of the man standing in front of the large plasma screen. Deeks and Kensi stopped as they recognized the man even before he turned to face them.

Assistant Director Owen Grainger.

_Aw just great!_ Deeks thought this to himself and that he should have bought Kensi more doughnuts. _What did we do to deserve this?_

Waiting for everyone to finally enter the room, Grainger turned slowly, his face blank of any expression or emotion. Glancing at each person standing before him, the Assistant Director loudly cleared his throat and announced, "All personnel not Level 5 Security cleared, please vacate the room immediately."

Several analysts and technicians looked around the room, slightly confused looks on their faces, before they cleared their work areas and began moving quickly for the doors. This left three agents, one LAPD detective, a clearly agitated analyst, and one very nervous blonde technician in the room with a man that none of them really liked, must less trusted. When the last person had left the room, Grainger turned his head slightly and nodded to the blonde technician. "Mr. Beale, would you please secure the room."

Eric's fingers moved over his keyboard and the magnetic locks could be heard engaging at the double doors. Spinning around in his chair, Eric didn't look up when he said, "Room's secure."

Looking up once more, Grainger came face to face with four sets of eyes that were intently boring in to his, looking for some hint about what was really going on. He had his poker face on, giving away nothing to the three men and one woman standing directly in front of him, glaring and confused. The only sound in the room was the fan motors of the cooling units for all the computers and monitors that covered the walls.

As team leader, Callen took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the man from Washington. Before Grainger could say a word, Callen spoke first with the most obvious questions.

"So where's Hetty?"

Brown eyes met cold steel-gray ones. "Ms. Lange is currently attending a National Security Advisory Council debriefing at Camp Pendleton for most of the day." Before anyone could protest or ask why their beloved boss wasn't there to give them their marching orders, Grainger continued. "That's where I sent her this morning because I needed her out of this office and somewhere secure."

Callen raised his hand to silence the groans of protest that came from behind him. "With all due respect, Assistant Director, but may I ask why in the world did you need to do that?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Grainger's facial expression hadn't changed in any way. "Agent Callen, you are in luck today."

"What makes me so lucky today?"

"Two things: first, I am in a good mood, and second, something has come up that possibly involves the safety of Ms. Lange." Looking over his shoulder, he spoke to the two techs sitting at their work stations.

"Ms. Jones, play the surveillance video from last night."

The agents could hear Nell's fingers clicking on the keys of her keyboard. All eyes went to the large plasma screen that dominated the far wall. The screen was divided into four sections, each displaying separate screens taken by traffic cameras somewhere in Los Angeles.

Turning fully so that he was now facing the large screen, Grainger began to narrate along with each scene as it played for the agents. All four had taken a step forward so that they could see a little better. Sam and Callen flanked the Assistant Director while Kensi and Deeks were just off to the side.

Deeks was leaning back against the side of a computer stand, his arms folded across his chest and Kensi was leaning against the corner of the same stand, their elbows barely touching. Bumping her lightly, Deeks turned his head slightly, meeting his partner's dark eyes.

"What in the world's gong on?" He mouthed without making a sound. A quick shrug was all Kensi could do, she was just in the dark as he was. He turned back to the front and let a small sigh.

_It's going to be one of those days._

"These are traffic cams from last night. The recordings start at 2200 hours and track to 2230 and I think you will recognize the silver jaguar." Grainger glanced over at Callen when he had finished speaking.

Looking up at the corner screen, Callen felt his pulse increase. "That's Hetty."

"Yes, it is." Nell's statement was filled with emotion, even though she had watched the video earlier when they were notified of the incident.

Callen turned to Grainger, anger clear in his eyes. "Why in the world are you tracking Hetty!?"

"We aren't tracking her, and as far as I know she is totally unaware of what transpired last night." Grainger's tone didn't change at all as he continued. "I need you too watch the entire video before you say anything else Agent Callen."

Callen reigned in his anger, for now. There would plenty of time to discuss this later if he didn't get the answers he wanted and needed to know. Spinning back to the screen, he watched as the videos showed the silver vehicle move through the streets of Los Angeles. Each screen showed the image of the car but after it had passed, another larger vehicle was seen in each view. A black SUV was just a bit behind, staying close but not too close.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. "She's being tailed."

No one bothered to confirm his observation, they were as sure of it as he was. The agents aggravation at Grainger's presence had been quickly replaced by concern for their absent boss. All eyes focused on the screen, watching as the SUV continued to stalk the smaller vehicle, but keeping the same amount of distance.

"Did she know she was being followed?" Deeks asked from beside his partner.

Grainger nodded toward the screen. "Just watch _Detective_, just watch."

If Grainger's dismissive tone affected him, Deeks didn't let it show. His partner though, was fuming. Kensi took a step toward Grainger's back, but before she could do or say anything to the older man, she felt a hand grab her arm just above her elbow and gently tug her back. She turned and glared at Deeks only to meet another adorable smile, the one he used to tell her it was okay. Nodding to him, she let a little sigh to ease her frustration at the way he so easily forgave those who constantly dismissed him and turned her attention back to the video.

Feeling Kensi relax next to him, Deeks leaned over and whispered, "That's my girl."

If the situation about Hetty hadn't been so tense, she would have decked him. _My girl? I'll kill him. _Instead, she pinched him on his side, and stifled her grin when he yelped a little at the pain, bumping his elbow on the corner of the computer. Sensing the movement, Grainger, Sam, and Callen turned to see Deeks rubbing his elbow and his side at the same time.

"Come on Deeks, focus," Sam growled.

Deeks started to respond but at the last moment realized that this was not the time nor the place. He swallowed down his snarky response and turned his attention back to the screen.

Eric tapped a few keys, enlarging one particular video angle, "And this is where it gets weird."

The video showed Hetty's vehicle stopped at a red light, the black SUV stopped just behind her. The cross traffic wasn't very heavy but when a gap appeared, Hetty suddenly accelerated through the still red light, leaving the SUV trapped for a moment. When it started to move, it had to wait until a large semi-truck had moved out of the intersection and by then, Hetty was long gone.

"So what's weird about that?" Kensi spoke up from her place beside her partner. "She spotted the tail and left them in the dust."

Grainger remained silent, his eyes still on the screen. The other agents looked at each other, wondering if they would ever get a straight answer from the man but before theuy could speak, he pointed to the screen. "Video's not over yet."

On the plasma, the black SUV sped down the street, trying to find its prey. The camera angle changed rapidly, following the vehicle's frantic search, but the silver jaguar had disappeared.

"And here it comes." Nell had spoken out loud and not even realized she had. The SUV moved through another intersection, no other traffic in sight. But just as it was about to complete its turn, another car slammed into front of the passenger side, taking out the front tire, disabling the larger vehicle.

All of a sudden, all hell broke loose on the video. All four doors of the SUV opened and six very large and very angry men stepped out. From their style and color of clothing, one could easily guess that they were probably affiliated with one of the many Latino street gangs that inhabited the City of Angels. And they were not happy about the damage to their vehicle. They drew their guns almost as soon as their feet hit the asphalt.

"Crap dude, I think you just ran into the wrong SUV." Deeks was sure that the driver that caused the accident was about to die in a hail of gunfire, he had seen it plenty of times over at LAPD. LA gangs were not known for their tolerance of someone who wrecked their ride.

The gang members could be seen approaching the other damaged vehicle with their weapons drawn. The driver still inside, apparently stunned or possibly injured. One of the larger gang members walked up to the driver's door, yanked it open, and violently drug the dazed man out to the street. The video had no audio but the gesturing and body language of the gang didn't leave much room for doubt about what the outcome was going to be. The driver was cowering on the ground as the gang encircled him, some placing their handguns into the waistbands of their pants. They closed in, like a pack of wild dogs, apparently deciding that a good beating would precede the shooting.

"Driving in LA is a dangerous undertaking." Sam was still angry about Hetty being tailed by a group of lowlife thugs, but watching them murder an innocent man just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time made his blood boil.

"Patience Agent Hanna, patience." Grainger appeared as cool as he could be. "Zoom in here Ms. Jones, they need to see this."

Nell tapped a few keys and the screen gave a closer view of what was happening. The gang, their guns, and the man about to die were now clear enough for the agents to regret the clarity of the camera.

As the first gang member stepped up to the man on the ground and drew his fist back ... it happened. Suddenly the man's arm shot out, his hand connecting with his attacker's throat. The gang-banger dropped to the ground, completely incapacitated. Seemingly defying gravity, the man was quickly on his feet, striking out with his hands, feet, knees, and elbows. Three of the gang were already on the ground before the others had even a chance to respond, but now, guns came into the mix. The flashes of several shots were visible but the man seemed to dance around them in movements that defied description. He grabbed one attacker's arm and twisted it at an awkward angle, instantly breaking the bones, at the same time he was kneeing another goon in his side, sending him head first into the side of the disabled car.

As the fight played on the screen, the people watching were mesmerized by what they were seeing. The predators had become the prey. The moves that the man was using to defend himself were strange, but somehow familiar. He appeared to be using several different martial arts and weaving them together in perfect harmony. Not one punch or gun shot by his attackers found their target, he just slipped out of the way almost as if he could anticipate what they were about to do. All of the agents were stunned as the man methodically disabled every one of the gang members without seemingly breaking a sweat. Even Grainger, with his years of experience, had never witnessed anything like it.

"Holy crap! We've got a ninja!" No one even bothered to acknowledge Deeks' comment.

When the last gang member was unconscious on the ground, the man stood with his back to the traffic camera and that's when Callen noticed that they had yet to see the man's face on-screen. He could be seen brushing the dirt off of his clothes before he reached down and began to thoroughly search each man lying on the ground. After several moments, the man finished up and calmly turned further away from the camera, slowly walking down the side-walk. He raised his hand to his ear, talking into his phone. After finishing his call, the man disappeared out of the camera's view.

"That's enough, Ms. Jones, thank you." Grainger said without moving from his place behind the two technicians. Still standing in front of the big screen, he began to relay more information. "A few minutes later, LAPD was on the scene, responding to an anonymous tip about a vehicular accident and gang fight. Six members of the LAtin Kings were found at the scene, all unconscious, suffering from multiple injuries, none life threatening. They are now in LAPD custody for weapons violations and are being treated for their injuries."

Turning to a group of still stunned agents, Grainger asked, "Questions?"

"Really?" Of course Deeks was the first to speak. "We watch a gang tail Hetty, a nasty car wreck, and some dude doing the Matrix thing and you wonder if we have any questions!?"

Ignoring the tall surfer, Callen pointed to the screen. "What in the world is this all about?"

Grainger defered to the analyst and technician to give the details. Nell tapped her keyboard and six mug shots appeared on the screen. "These are the men who were following Hetty ... er, Ms. Lange. Each one affiliated with the street gang, The LAtin Kings, and each has a record from robbery to assault with a deadly weapon. They are recovering from their injuries in the infirmary at the Department of Corrections."

Eric pulled up the vehicle registrations on the split screen. "The black SUV is registered to a Manuel Rivera, he's the one with the broken arm. The car driven by the 'ninja', was reported stolen from a dealer lot up in the valley four nights ago. No finger prints or anything else useful was found inside the vehicle."

"So he's careful too." Callen's mind was racing at top speed to try to understand what the real threat was to Hetty. Was it the gang-bangers or this apparently very dangerous man? These questions and many more danced through his mind as he tried to process all the information provided by the video. There wasn't that much to go on; Hetty, a gang, and some mystery man. And Assistant Director Grainger didn't seem to be forth-coming with any more information.

Sam turned to face the man from D.C. "Where do we start?"

Grainger seemed a little perplexed himself. "I just became aware of this incident late last night when one of our overnight analysts noticed Hetty's car on Kaleidoscope and then the resulting accident and the take-down of the gang. I drove down from San Diego early this morning and reviewed the video with Ms. Jones and Mr. Beale." Callen noticed a hint of concern in Grainger's words and began to wonder if the stoic man actually did have a soft spot for their diminutive leader. "I thought it would be best for us to formulate a plan before we involved Ms. Lange. I sent her to Camp Pendleton to take my place at the conference so I could meet with you and your team. Having her on a base surrounded by several thousand Marines would keep her safe without rousing her suspicions ... _I hope_."

Callen nodded in agreement as a plan of action began to form in his mind. Deeks and Kensi moved up beside Sam, their kidding around had ended long ago at the unknown threat to their revered leader. As his team gathered around him, Callen focused all of his deductive skills on how best to approach the situation to bring it to a hasty conclusion and hopefully, one with healthy outcome.

Seemingly reading his mind, Sam nodded to his partner. "So G., where do we start?"

Callen looked over at his friend. "First, we need to find out why a bunch of gang-bangers were following Hetty and what their intentions were."

Deeks stepped up beside the big Navy S.E.A.L., his facial expression one of determination and fire. "And the second?"

Callen turned back to the plasma screen and pointed directly at the paused image of the mysterious stranger. "We find out who the hell this guy is."

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Would love some reviews, but be kind and honest, this is my first fanfic.

Semper Fi

JS


	3. Target

Wow! I am totally blown away from all the reviews, follows, and favs to my story. You guys are the best.

Thanks to all of you who have pointed out mistakes or errors...every last one belongs to me. Sadly , the characters of NCIS:Los Angeles, do not.

And now, the answer to who wants Hetty dead ... and why.

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**Target**

The sunlight drifted softly across the buildings of the small Italian resort city of Alassio, a once heavily visited tourist destination on the Italian Riviera. A myriad of colors emanated from the terracotta rooftops; the setting sun produced deep reds to soft rust hues as it dipped over the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea. A swathe of bronze-gray sand, one of the best beaches in Italy, stretched all the way to the resort town of Laigueglia just two and a half miles to the west. The tourists came mostly in July and August, so the beaches were empty and the town, for the most part, seemed to rest in a peaceful existence.

As the streets began to clear and most of the citizens retired to their homes the shops along the town's main thoroughfare began to close for the night. Hungry travelers wandered into one of the many bistros that specialised in local produce such as Taggiasche olives, pesto, salted anchovies and Baci di Alassio – small but powerful little macaroons packed with cocoa, hazelnuts and rum. Further along the street, the sound of clanging wooden doors and shutters echoed along the Via XX Settembre and its continuation, Via Vittorio Veneto, signaling that the busy day was coming to an end.

Several back-packing travelers ambled along the cobble-stone streets, enjoying the tranquillity that seemed to permeate everything around them. On their way through the outskirts, they passed a rather expansive hill-side estate, covered in acres of landscaped terraces with twin villas located behind a tall white-washed stone wall. Built in the late 1870s, the residences were what one would expect of that era of Italian architecture. Large Roman columns and wrought iron balconies were prominent on the side facing to the west, the sun high-lighting the natural colors of the stone and masonry walls.

Just below the central villa's opulent portico, there as a small garden, surrounded by tall cypress trees and colorful local flora. A large fountain is the prominent feature, carpeted with water lilies and encircled with a river pebble pathway. Of to one side, three broken Roman columns make for a set of poetic benches set under wisteria-covered pergolas.

A small stone table sat among the quiet greenery in the secret garden next to the columns, a chair placed on either side. The man sitting in one of the chairs seemed at peace, as he sipped wine from a crystal goblet and read from a large leather-bound book. His clothing consisted of a loose Egyptian cotton shirt, hand-made in a little shop just north of Cairo and khakis from a men's shop in downtown London. A bejeweled watch rested on his left wrist, just below a faded black tatoo written in Slavic that translated into 'Strength From Family'.

Just a few steps away, stood two very large men, each dressed in tailor-made Italian business suits, their fire arms concealed underneath their coats. They wore their hair short-cropped and their eyes were hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses. They both appeared relaxed and confident but each was like a colied serpent, ready to strike at the very hint of danger to their master who relaxed just a few feet away.

Yuriatin Strelnikov, formaly known as Yuri Strelok, stretched in his chair, his aged body protesting at movement of old muscles and bones. He didn't consider himself 'old' but his birthdate and aching body would tell a different story. His salt-and-pepper hair disguised his real age and many still thought he was younger than he appeared. He liked it that way, just a little more to the mystery as to who he really was. Sometimes he felt like he didn't even know himself, the joy of his youth long forgotten on the long and painful road that his life had taken.

Glancing over his shoulder, he silently acknowledged his body guards that hovered just close enough to protect him if something happened but far away enough to give him his space. He smiled at that; they were good, some of the best, of course they were, he only paid for the best. What made him smile was the fact that he didn't really need them. His body may have aged but he was as deadly now as he had been in his youth. Years of training and fieldwork had made him one of the best operatives that the KGB had ever produced after they had recruited him out of Spetsnaz, the Russian special forces. The lines on his face and the lighter tint of his hair sometimes made his enemies think of him as weak and frail; they usually died with a very surprised look on their face.

Turning back to the table, Yuri picked up a fork and began to enjoy the meal set before him. His personal chef had prepared a dish of raw Piedmontese beef with porcini mushrooms and truffles, with a side platter of thyme-scented snails stewed in local Pigato wine. The flavor of the meat and mushrooms caused Yuri to think back to happier times, times before events conspired to turn his soul dark and deadly. He remembered a dish his wife used to make that consisted of flavored dumplings and steamed vegetables that he couldn't seem to eat enough of. As long forgotten memories began to play in his mind, he was suddenly distracted by footsteps that crunched on the pebble path.

Another well dressed man strode up to the small garden table, his face handsome and stern. Neither bodyguard moved as they knew this man well, he was as part of their world as Yuri. His wavy blonde hair pulled back into a tight tail and he slowed as he entered the alcove, waiting for the senior man to acknowledge him before he came any closer or spoke. Yuri finished chewing and took a small swallow of his wine before glancing up and nodding to his guest.

"Forgive me for interrupting your meal, Sir."

Yuri wiped his mouth and chin with a silk napkin before dropping it to his lap. "Nothing to forgive, Stepan. I'm glad you're back already. Did you have a nice trip?"

Stepan Koznyshev relaxed at his master's calm reception and pleasant smile, even though he knew the darkness that resided behind the mask. He moved a step or two closer, standing just to the side of the table in front of the imposing guards. "Yes, sir, I did."

Yuri reclined into the cushioned chair and folded his hands on his legs, wordlessly telling the younger man to continue. He knew of Stepan's progress in his assignment, but he anxiously waited for the report to be made in person. Stepan was like a son to him and Yuri had missed his counsel and company.

Stepan nodded to the older gentleman before he began. "I have news pertaining to your recent request."

"Ah yes, our little enterprise is going according to plan?"

Opening the datapad he had in his left hand, Stepan tapped a few keys and began to relate the information that appeared there. "Our intel about her location has been confirmed by associate Hector and he had passed on his intent to fulfill your request within the week. He is already on sight but has encountered better countermeasures than he expected. He has made arrangements with some local headhunters to 'test the waters', as the Americans would say."

Yuri, seemingly lost in thought, turned his gaze to the flowered shrubs that wrapped around the small foot path. Stepan knew his master was listening and absorbing all the information he was providing, so he continued. "Two contractors have failed to make any contact after the initial notice of job acceptance. Their last known location was Berlin and our assets there report that they have disappeared."

"Took the initial payment and ran, eh?"

Stepan looked up from his data. "Yes, it would seem so, sir."

Yuri's eyes turned cold as he spoke. "We will deal with them later. Their lack of fore-sight will cost them more than the money they took from me by failing to provide the services I paid them for." After taking a long breath, Yuri let it out slowly, "And what of our friend in Dubai?"

Stepan paused for a moment, his mind remembering what Yuri had done to the last contractor that had failed to produce the promised results after taking payment. The man's screams still haunted some of his dreams. Yuri placed a high mark on loyalty and professionalism, failure to meet his standards led to a not-so-pleasant end for the offending party. "Yes, sir. He accepted the terms of the contract and departed immediately. He has disappeared, but that is his standard operating procedure, as you are well aware. He has had plenty of time, he's probably been in the United States for a few days now."

Yuri's eyes gleamed like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. "He's a ghost, that's why I hired him. He's the best at what he does." Taking another sip of wine, Yuri motioned with his hand as he continued. "We won't see or hear from him until his contract is fulfilled to the letter. The target will be eliminated and it will all look like a terrible accident with nothing to trace back to him, or, more importantly, to me."

"Has he ever worked for you before?"

"Not directly. He sources himself out to the highest bidder, taking only the most difficult assignments." The fact that Yuri sounded impressed took Stepan by surprise; it took a lot to impress Yuri 'The Shooter' Strelok. "I first heard about him when I was still consulting for the KGB. No one knows exactly who he is and he doesn't exist in any data base, even the Americans have no clear picture of who he is."

Eyebrows raised in an unspoken question, Stepan glanced up at his master. Yuri waved his hand again, "Oh don't worry Stepan, he owes allegiance to no one except himself and who pays him the most. I wish I could get him to work exclusively for me and maybe after this job is over, I'll make him an offer he can't refuse." Yuri's confidence in the hitman's loyalty him, the highest bidder, was well founded. After the fall of the Soviet Republic, Yuri's many underworld contacts and connections had enabled him to amass power and wealth that would rival many small countries. His net worth alone would top several hundred million in Euros, and that is just liquid assets. The control, influence, and outright power that he had at his disposal staggered the imagination. As did his brutality to those who betrayed him. No one dared betray him. The two contractors that had taken his down-payment and skipped out on him would pray for death whenhe was finished with them.

Stepan's skin went cold. He had read the man's dossier and it read like nightmare. No one had made as many 'kills" in their careers against protected targets like he had. Every hit, though, looked like an accidental death: fires, automobile accidents, drownings, natural causes, and the list went on. This particular contrator's ability to come up with new creative ways for targets to die was in itself impressive but the coldness that he would employ to fulfill the term's of his agreement was even more so. In several instances, not only was the target taken out, but the target's family and friends as well. It seemed there was no concern for collateral damage in the fulfillment of a contract when this particular hitman was involved.

"So," Yuri pushed back from the table and began walking down the small path that lead to another large marble fountain, "Do you foresee any problems with accomplishing our goal?"

Stepan hurried to catch up and match the older man's pace as the two guards fell into place just a few steps behind them. "No sir, all is going according to plan. I feel confident that we will have an update soon from one of our operatives in the field. And we can always ask for more intel from our contact on the inside."

The river pebbles crunched softly under their shoes as they rounded a small bend in the path, a rabbit suddenly broke cover from the shrubs to their right. After it had dashed across in front of them and instantly disappeared from view, Yuri let out a small chuckle.

"Sir, did you say something?"

"No Stepan," Yuri's tone was rather contemplative, like he was a million miles away at that moment. "The rabbit just reminded me of the fleeting moment that our lives are. It appears if only for a moment and the moment's gone."

He said no more for a time, lost in painful memories of life, love, and happiness.

And then _pain._

_Anger._

_Hate._

Her name was Marya and she was the most beautiful creature Yuri had ever seen. They met while attending the university in Moscow and it had been love at first sight, well, Yuri's sight anyway. He pursued her relentlessly, brushing past her defensive rejections until one day, in the library, she finally agreed to allow him to court her. Soon, love came upon them both: Yuri fell for her gorgeous looks and self-confidence, Marya for Yuri's determination and humor. They married right after graduation and Yuri left for his career in the Soviet military and Marya accepted an internship at the dance academy in St. Petersburg.

Years later, with Yuri now working as an analyst for the KGB and Marya teaching ballet, they had a boy and a little girl, Antonia and Aleksandr They were happy. Content. But as is common in life, all things must come to an end. Yuri was approached by a team of C.I.A. operatives, trying to talk him into switching teams, into becoming a double agent. He had seriously considered it. He knew first hand how the Soviet government worked, how cruel the KGB could be. On the verge of making a commitment to the undercover operatives, Yuri's world came to an abrupt end. Somehow, the KGB was aware of the C.I.A.'s groming of Yuri and they were determined to keep him loyal to them. Unfortunately, the KGB wasn't known for using the subtle approach.

The small family had enjoyed an evening out on the town, taking in the visiting United States Ballet Troupe. When they arrived at their car, Yuri discovered that he had left his coat back in the auditorium. Since it had been a recent gift from Mayra, he ran back to get it before they left. He was half-way across the street, his loving family sitting in the car, laughing and waving to him. He raised his hand to wave back when the plastic explosives planted under the engine blocked detonated.

Yuri watched in horror as his entire life vaporized in a millisecond of light, heat, and flame.

When he awoke in the hospital days later, his head bandaged, his soul destroyed. The doctors told him he would recover from his injuries, that they were mostly bumps and bruises. The police told him his family had died instantly in the blast, that they didn't suffer. No, he was left to do that. And then his colleagues from the KGB were at his door, with files and documentation. They showed him how the C.I.A. had become nervous about his decision and decided to cut their loses, the bomb intended for Yuri and him alone. His family had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Yuri recovered from his injuries but his heart was now cold and vindictive. He poured himself into his work and soon he moved into field, becoming one of the best the KGB had ever fielded. He had the respect of his colleagues and the trust of his superiors, but in his heart, that didn't matter. His focus, his drive was revenge. He spent his down time and some of his official, to hunt down those he deemed responsible for his family's death. And he did and did it well. Several deep cover C.I.A. operatives met with unfortunate ends at the hands of Yuri Strelok, '_strelok' _means 'shooter' in Russian. He assumed that name the day he left the hospital, vowing to never rest until the innocent blood of his family was avenged.

Years later, when the Iron Curtain began to fall, he learned the truth ... his family hadn't died at the hands of the Americans. They were murdered to send him a message. Murdered by his own countrymen to keep him in line. Betrayed by his own, Yuri disappeared only to reappear months later from the abyss of the Russian mafia. His old KGB training and contacts gave him the edge he needed to eventually become the kingpin of the Russian underground. Methodically, Yuri turned his fury on those truly at the heart of his pain and loss. He killed them all until there were none left and then he faded back into the seedy realm he had carved out for himself.

But in his mind he never forgave the American's. If they had never approached him, never asked him to betray his country, his Mayra would still be alive. Little Antonia and Aleksandr would have grown up , beautiful and strong, instead of dying in a bomb blast. He chased them all over the world, hunted them down and exacted his vengeance.

All of them had paid with their lives ...

all except one.

The small woman masquerading as a Red Cross nurse at that shoddy hospital in Sarejavo when he was stationed in Yugoslavia. The name that she had presented as hers had been Hannah Landon, but he knew that was just one of her many aliases. She had been the impetus of his contact with the C.I.A., she had been the one to cultivate him to become a double agent, and above all others, she had been the cause of the death of his family. Yuri knew that the death of his family had never been her intent, but it had been the result. She was the only one left ... and he would burn the world to ashes to find her, and collect the debt he felt she still owed.

Yuri had searched for years, looking for Hannah, ... but all his efforts proved futile; she had disappeared soon after the death of his family and her trail had gone cold almost immediately. Years of searching in vain had left him wondering if she had died in some obscure local or if she had escaped his wrath. It wasn't until recently that fortune had smiled upon him. In an effort to increase his security and intelligence gathering abilities, his organization had acquired an assets deep inside the Central Intelligence Agency. Someone with access to the some of the deepest levels of the most heavily guarded secrets of the United States.

And just by chance, one small bit of intel, one name on a redacted report that detailed a recruiting operation in Sarejavo that had gone horribly wrong. The target of the operation had been none other than Yuri himself, but the most important part of the report, the part the censors had missed, the item that made Yuri's heart beat faster in his chest when he read it ... Hannah's true identity. _Henrietta Lange._

Further pressure on the new asset had provided more data on Ms. Lange and once he had enough, Yuri had unleashed the hounds on her. He had placed a contract on her so large, none could resist. Even the man in Dubai had accepted and he had the reputation as being very selective in his targets. His price was astronomical, but Yuri would pay it willingly, without hesitation.

Yuri would finally have his revenge ... all the debts settled.

Stepan had waited patiently for his master to come back from the dark thoughts that now occupied his mind. The garden was silent except for the men's footsteps on the gravel trail as they wound through the shrubs, fountains, and statues. Yuri's brow furrowed in the expression his men had come to know all to well, the one were he was not to be disturbed. So they followed him along, knowing he would soon return to the business at hand.

After a few moments, Yuri sighed heavily and turned his head to face Stepan once more. "Forgive me Stepan, my mind seemed to have drifted away for a moment. You were saying?"

"Nothing to forgive, sir. I was just commenting on the beauty of your garden."

Smiling at his trusted friend's soft deflection, Yuri patted the younger man on his shoulder. "My friend, I don't know how you put up with me sometimes."

Stepan stood proud and strong before the man he considered the father he never had. Years of military discipline in the Soviet special forces and even more time inservice to his friend and mentor, couldn't keep his heart from swelling with emotion. He would do anything for the man at his side, cross any obstacle, or fight any foe. "Sir, I live to serve."

Yuri felt genuine affection at the man's statement and he squeezed his shoulder firmly, giving a small gesture without appearing soft or weak. "And serve me you have, for oh so many years," and then he turned and moved around the fountain, heading back to his unfinished meal that was waiting for him. His two bodyguards pivoted effortlessly, constantly scanning the surrounding are for any possible threats or dangers.

The younger blonde Stepan trailed just behind Yuri and tapped his pad once more. "Sir, Karenin has just accepted your contract."

"Very good, Stepan. Very good." Yuri smiled, but it looked more like a snarl.

Vladimir Karenin was one the top contractors and Yuri had used his services many times before. He had a reputation for being a brutal killer and that's why he was offered this contract along with all the others. Yuri wanted Henrietta's death to be painful and if Karenin got to her first, it would be. He wasn't nicknamed 'Vlad the Defiler' for his charming personality. Yuri's mind raced at the thought of little Henrietta at the mercy of Karenin and his blades. _He'll peel her like a grape, _he thought gleefully to himself as he returned to his dinner.

Stepan had stopped just to the side of the table, and he seemed to have become a little nervous. After taking a bite of the succulent meat, Yuri looked up at his friend. "Something on your mind, Stepan?"

The younger man appeared reluctant to show what he was thinking but knowing Yuri's penchant for honesty in his employees, he hesitantly replied, "Sir, do you think that we are being a little over-cautious with this target?"

Placing his fork on the table, Yuri took a sip of wine before acknowledging. "Do you think that I am making a mistake?" His voice was calm and devoid of emotion but Stepan was no fool, he picked up on the irritated tone behind the words.

"No sir, not at all. I'm just wondering why you have hired so many contractors to take out this one target."

Smiling softly to reassure his friend that his words carried no real animosity, Yuri tapped his finger softly on the table-cloth. "Our target is probably one of the best that ever worked for the C.I.A. and it would be foolish to underestimate her in this attempt. We are so close to bringing this back full circle that I will spare no expense, leave no stone unturned, and let nothing, nothing stand in my way."

Stepan actually felt the air around him grow cold at the intensity of his employer's statement. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to make amends. "Sir, if I have offended you in any way, I apologize."

"There's no need for that my old friend. You are just being cautious, that's what I pay you for. I need somebody to reign me in from time to time." The cool calculating smile had returned.

"Yes, sir."

"But know this," Yuri's hand formed into a fist so tight, his knuckles turned white, "I will stop at _nothing_ until the Lange woman is dead, whether by the contractors in my employ or by my hand. I will destroy anyone who gets in my way or hinders me in my pursuit of justice. I will sell my soul to Hell itself for the opportunity to watch the life leave her eyes , to see her bleeding at my feet, or to hear her begging for death."

The garden fell into a silence, everything and everyone seemed afraid to disturb the fierce man at the table. Cold shivers ran up and down Stepan's spine, he had never seen his friend this passionate about someone's death.

Yuri's eyes turned his eyes and looked out at nothing, his mind fixed on one thought and one thought alone. "The Lange woman will die and my family will be avenged. I swear this on my very soul."

Stepan nodded to his master. He almost felt sorry for the little woman.

_Almost._

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Did anyone catch the song lyrics Yuri quoted? It'll pop up in another chapter. A gold star if you can find it and give me the name of the song and the group who sings it.

Thanks again for all your support and encouragement.

Semper Fi!

JS


	4. Questions

**A/N: I'm so sorry that it has been a while since my last update ... writer's block is the only answer I have for you. With work, family, friends, all the 'stuff' of life, sometimes it takes some time for my brain to focus enough to actually get back into the story and the characters. Please forgive me.**

**Thank you so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews. I just hope there are still some of you out there that want to read this mess. **

**Side note: How about that season finale? Holy Bat Crap! The bombs, the betrayal, the torture ... and THE KISS! Finally! I just hope it doesn't all get messed up next season. Ugh ... September is too far away.**

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**And now, the next chapter ...**

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**Questions**

"So what have we got on the gang members?" Callen was now standing directly behind Nell and Eric, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants. The rest of the team had closed ranks behind him, essentially forming an invisible wall between themselves and Granger, who stood silently in the middle of the floor. It wasn't a conscious decision to block him out, he just wasn't part of their little family. Hetty and he had a past together, but he never was able to really fit in with the rest of the group.

Granger watched as some of the best NCIS had to offer, and one very good LAPD detective, began to confer about the various bits of information that the two techs continued to pull up on the screen. Seeing them in action always made him proud that he had such a strong team at his disposal. He would never admit it out loud, but Owen Granger thought that there wasn't anything that Callen and his team couldn't handle. With this new dangerous threat to Hetty, he hoped he was still right.

Granger softly cleared his throat. "Agent Callen."

Four heads turned as one and four sets of eyes locked on the older man. Their expressions seemed to relay that they were growing annoyed that he was still there and again interrupting the flow of the team. Granger swallowed quickly and then he continued. "I'll be heading up to Camp Pendleton with a couple of agents. We'll escort Hetty back and hope that by then, you'll have a game plan." Callen's response was a slight nod of his head, concern clearly etched in his steel-blue eyes.

Granger turned to leave, but before he reached the doors, he stopped and turned. "Do whatever you have to do. I don't know how serious this threat is at this point, but I have always been accused by some of being overly cautious. I don't want to take any chances with this. None."

The seriousness of his tone, the set of his jaw, caused everyone to give him their full attention. "I have the up most confidence in you and this team and I know that you will do everything to solve this mess. Whatever I can do, whatever you need ... you just let me know." Then he turned and disappeared through the double doors.

The stunned silence that followed, was more than Deeks could stand. "So, does anyone besides me wonder who in the world that was?"

That earned him a glare from both Sam and Callen as they turned back to the plasma screen. Kensi seemed to share in her partner's confusion. "I've never seen him like that. He sounded almost ..."

"Concerned." Her blonde haired partner finished for her.

The same thought had entered Callen's mind too. He would be the first one to admit that he and Granger had never seen eye to eye. In fact, some agents had made bets as to who would shoot who first. But now, with this unknown threat to Hetty, even enemies could find common ground. Now they had to find out as much as they could before Hetty arrived back at the mission, hopefully safely.

"Pull up the photos of the gang members again."

Eric tapped his keyboard and six pictures appeared side by side across the screen. "Here they are: Manuel Rivera, the owner of the SUV, Guiermo Sanchez, Carlos Zartan, Romero Guitierez, David Vellegas, and Raphael Diaz. All have confirmed connections with the LAtin Kings. All are about to be released from the hospital into LAPD custody."

"Deeks?"

The detective looked up at the team leader, his eyebrows raised. "What do you need Callen?"

"I want us to have a crack at them before LAPD. Do you think you could arrange that?"

Deeks was already pulling his phone out. "On it." He dialed the number for Lt. Bates at LAPD and stepped away so he could talk without disturbing the rest of the team.

As the tall detective slipped off to the side of the room, Callen turned back to Nell and Eric. "Pull up the mystery man again, let's see if there's anything we missed the first time." Kensi and Sam stepped up closer as the video from the street camera began to play again, each one focusing their highly trained skills on the screen, looking for any possible clues that were not obvious during the previous viewing. The 'ninja' again revealed nothing, his head and hair covered by the dark hoodie he was wearing. He had on black driver's gloves but everything about his attire seemed plain, nothing stood out.

Sam started describing what he saw. "He's about six feet, two or three inches tall. He's built, probably weighs around two hundred twenty, maybe two hundred thirty pounds. Caucasian. He doesn't seem to favor either side so I can't tell it he's right or left-handed."

"Slow it down a little Eric." Something had caught Kensi's eye.

Sam crossed his arms over his wide chest. "What did you see Kensi?"

"Not sure. Just looking at his fighting style; maybe that'll tell us more about him."

As the video played out at a slower pace, the quick strikes that were at first blurs, became clearer and more defined. Kensi folded her arms as well, mimicking Sam as her eyes locked on the mystery man's hands, knees, elbows, and feet. Along with Sam, she used her years of hand-to-hand combat training to try and find what type or style of fighting the stranger had used. "Well ... crap."

Callen looked over at the both of them, his face curled in confusion as well. "What is it guys?"

"I've never seen anything like this." Sam seemed to have the same puzzled look on his face that the brunette did.

Callen didn't say anything, he just waited for one of them to speak. Sam and Kensi exchanged a slight shrug and the older man pointed up at the screen. "From my count, he used at least four different martial arts when he took out the gang."

"I counted five but I've never seen them used together so seamlessly ... it was ... well, beautiful." Kensi couldn't hide the admiration in her voice. "Aikido, Ju-jitsu, Shinto Ryu, Shotokan, Kung Fu, and I think there was some Israeli Krav Maga in there as well."

Callen and Sam shared a knowing look.

"Struck."

"_Smitten."_

"Shut the hell up you two." Kensi said through clenched teeth as she stole a look over at her shaggy partner who was, thankfully, still on the phone with LAPD. She didn't need him getting curious about what they were talking about. Those words had been thrown at her by Sam and Callen back when she had first met Deeks in that sweaty MMA gym when he was posing as Jason Wyler. "I'm just commenting on his fighting style ... nothing else."

"Sure Kensi, you're not at all interested in the tall, dark stranger who fights better than you do?"

The intensity of the glare Kesni focused on Callen caused him to wonder if he was far enough away to make a run for it. When her stare didn't waver, Callen threw his hands up in mock surrender. "It's okay Kensi ... we won't tell Deeks about your new boyfriend." When she took a quick step toward him, he actually flinched. The evil smile that curled at the corner of her lips, reminded Callen of why her nick name was _Kick Ass Blye _and he was glad Sam was close enough to help if she actually did decide to kick his ass.

Before their conversation could continue, Deeks flipped his phone off and just stood there, staring at his phone. "Huh, that's just weird."

Kensi turned away from a frightened Callen and addressed the scruffy detective. "Whatchya got Deeks?"

When he looked over at her, she was once again struck the deep pacific blue of his eyes. Deeks gave a simple shrug of his shoulders. "Bates said that the Apple Dumpling Gang will be transported to the boat shed as soon as the transfer order clears."

"Wow Deeks, I'm impressed." Sam couldn't contain the big grin that covered his face. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're actually getting good at that liason thing."

"As much as I would love to claim credit for the trans-department-juridictional-prisoner-transfer between two law enforcement agencies that rarely see eye-to-eye, and the fact that they aren't ..."

"Deeks?" Kensi was rubbing her temple now. "Please?"

The smile that formed on the detective's face was priceless. "Sorry sugarbear."

Kensi's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "What did I say about calling me 'sugarbear'?"

"I thought you liked 'sugarbear'. It was 'Kiki' that you hated, but I don't see why, it's a very cute nickname and there are ..."

Kensi took a quick step over and slugged her partner in the shoulder. Hard.

"Hey ... ow!" Deeks reached up and rubbed where his arm was suddenly throbbing. "Come on Fern, at least Sam pulls his punches!"

The big SEAL was not amused. "What did you say shaggy?"

Before the floor of the operations center could be covered with the blood of a certain LAPD detective, Callen stepped in. "Come on guys, not now."

"Sorry ... what I was saying before I was both verbally and physically abused, is that I didn't do anything, the transfer had already been arranged." Deeks stepped beside his partner, the verbal and physical altercation quickly forgotten, filed away into the crazy world that was the usual for a certain blonde detective and his dark-haired partner.

Callen jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and asked, "So who cleared it?"

Deeks nodded toward the double doors at the back of the room. "None other than NCIS Assistant Director Owen Granger."

The other agents in the room suddenly realized how concerned the Assistant Director really was. Callen glanced down at the floor. "Wow, he's actually helping instead of getting in the way."

"They've got a Department of Corrections van waiting at the hospital to pick them up as soon as the doctors give the okay." Deeks gestured toward the screen where the gang's pictures were still displayed.

"Okay, Kensi and Deeks, you guys get over to LA Medical and escort the dumpling gang to the boat shed. Sam and I will see what we can find anything on our mystery man." Callen nodded at the two analysts that were patiently waiting on their marching orders. "Eric, Nell ... keep digging. See if any more street cams picked up our mystery guest; and check the phone records of the gang, see who they've been in contact with."

As they team broke apart toward their assigned tasks, Callen turned back to the techs. "Eric, our 'ninja' called LAPD to report the wreck and the fight, see if you can pull his voice from the 9-1-1 call and run it through voice recognition. He may have popped up on the radar somewhere else."

"Sure thing." Eric turned in his chair and Nell busied herself typing away at her keyboard. When the agents and detective had all cleared the room, he leaned over and bumped her with his elbow. When she looked over at him, he cocked his head to one side and asked, "Do you think Hetty's in any real danger?"

Nell tried to keep the worry from seeping into her response. She failed. "This time I think she may be Eric ... she may be."

* * *

Kensi and Deeks grabbed their bags and headed out of the mission to her silver SRX parked in the mission's side lot. They hadn't spoken since they were up in ops and the silence is becoming more than Deeks can stand. As soon as they are in their usual places inside her vehicle, with Kensi driving and Deeks fiddling with the radio station, he can't hold back any more.

"Kensi?"

When she didn't respond, he decided to try his favorite nickname for her.

"Fern?"

Without taking her eyes off the road, Kensi's response comes out a little sharper than she intended. "What!?"

Deeks knows immediately that she is off, he only hopes it's not because of him. "Hey, you okay?"

In an instant, she comes back with her trade-marked Kensi reply. "I'm _fine_." She knows it sounds too harsh the moment the word 'fine' leaves her lips, but her mind is racing at light-speed and, of course, her partner doesn't seem to share her concern. Sometimes she feels like he' s the best partner she's ever had, and other times she thinks he's permantly stuck at age fourteen. No other man on the planet as ever aggravated her to the point where she actually saw red, and there was no other man on the planet she trusted as much as she did him. She was just frustrated that their morning had started out great and now they were in a race to track down a threat to their boss. _Why couldn't there ever be just an easy day? _She thought as they raced toward the hospital.

Deeks thinks about pushing her for a more conversational response, but, for some reason, decides not too. The morning had started off great with their usual banter and sarcastic remarks. He had even gotten one of her sweet smiles when he had returned from the coffee shop with her favorite doughnuts, but now he felt that maybe he needed to work on keeping his mouth shut more often. So, instead of letting out one of his best lines about she is obviously _not_ fine, he bites his tongue and just stares out the window, watching as the streets of LA zip by.

Kensi notices that her partner isn't pressing the issue of her typical 'I'm fine' remark and wonders why he isn't pestering her as he normally would. She steals a glance over at him and sees that he is looking out the window, his fingers drumming lightly on the door panel in time with the techno music thumping through the speakers. That's when she realizes what was playing on the radio, She hadn't even noticed that he had tuned in her favorite station when they got in the car when he could have made the argument that it was still morning and he 'technically' was still in charge of picking the station. She instantly regretted coming off short with him, he hadn't done anything to deserve that. Calling her not one, but two, of his silly nicknames up in ops wasn't a reason to be snippy with him, but she had, and he was still thinking of ways to be sweet to her. A smile found its way to her lips and she had to look away just in case he saw her.

"Sorry Deeks, didn't mean it to come out that way."

Deeks turned to her and when she looked back at him, he was sporting one of the sweetest grins she had ever seen on him. "No problem Kens, it's cool." She noted the tender way he said the short version of her name that he only used when he was being serious with her. "I'm worried about Hetty too."

Kensi felt a shock run through her body; he had just reveled exactly what she was on her mind. She was again amazed at how well he knew her and could read her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to hide them from him. She quickly turned her attention back to the road, mainly because she didn't want to wreck her car, but also because she was afraid of what Deeks might see in her eyes if he looked too deep.

"I was afraid you were still mad about the 'sugarbear' slip-up in ops."

"Your stupid nicknames don't bother me like they used too. I'm getting to where I can ignore them when I want too ... kinda like I do you." She laughed at her own joke, she even snorted a little.

"Really Kiki?" Deeks' grin grew to the point where it looked as if his face might crack. "I quess I'll have to come up with some new ones, like ..."

"Deeks ... don't."

"Bambi?"

"Deeks, I swear to God ... "

"Dumpling?"

"Would you just stop!" She tried to sound angry but she couldn't stifle her laughter for much longer. _Dumpling ... really?_

"Sweetums ... pookie ... sugarplum ... honeybun ... "

Kensi was laughing now, loud and hard, the tension from what was happening in regards to Hetty floating away with every stupid little name that came from her partner's cute mouth. She had to reach up and wipe away the tears that were clouding her eyes and the seat belt was suddenly too tight on her aching ribs. She was loosing control ... fast.

"Deeks, ... pl ... please ... stop ... "

"Moonbeam ... starshine ... sparkplug ... sparkles ... " The rest were drowned out by the laughter that rocked the inside of the vehicle, Kensi barely able to see the road for the tears in her eyes. Catching her breath, she looked over at the lanky surfer.

"_Sparkplug ... _really?"

Deeks' mouth curled up at the corners into a devilish grin and turned his blue eyes to her mismatched ones. "Yeah, you keep me running."

And she lost it again, pressing herself back into her seat, Kensi's hands gripped the steering wheel with all her strength. Now her ribs really did hurt. Looking out the window, she saw that the minvan beside them was full of tiny soccer players and they were all looking at them, pointing, and laughing. The old Kensi would have been embarrassed by her actions, but once again, she took note of how much she had changed, all because of her crazy partner.

When they pulled up to a stoplight, the loud laughter had died out but was still some soft snickering, she smiled over at him. He was looking back out the window so she tapped him lightly on his knee. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks Deeks, I needed that."

Deeks noted the softness in her voice and was glad that he had lightened her mood. If the only thing he accomplished during the day was to get his beautiful partner to smile or laugh, he always considered it a good day. Turning to look into her soft eyes, he again conveyed an unspoken promise to always be there for her.

"Any time Kens, any time."

There was that name again. She couldn't deny the way her stomach did flip-flops when he said it that way. The tension when they had left the mission had been a little overwhelming. She couldn't believe that Hetty was in any real danger, but the gang they were going to interview, Granger's appearance, and then there was the mysterious 'ninja'; this was going to be one of those cases, one too close to home.

"There they are, drop me here and I'll go check on the transfer." As soon as Kensi stopped at the curb, Deeks hustled out of the vehicle and walked casually over to a large white van that had the words "California Department of Corrections" stenciled on the side. Two very large uniformed corrections officers stepped up and Deeks displayed his badge to them. They huddled close together and Kensi had a hard time reading their lips when they spoke. It was all just procedural conversation and then Deeks started telling them one of his stupid jokes and Kensi stopped reading his lips, but she didn't stop watching him. It was part of being his partner and always watching his back, and it was part because she was finding that she enjoyed watching him when he interacted with others. Deeks had a gift for getting people, even strangers, to trust him, and he always used to his advantage, whether he was working a case or just standing on a sidewalk, passing the time.

Kensi pulled around and parked behind the corrections van, and Deeks walked over and leaned against her door. When the wind blew in through the open window, her nostrils were filled with the light scent of the ocean and something else, something decidedly Deeks. She felt a familiar twinge start low in her chest and rise quickly until she was sure that her face was flushed, but Deeks didn't notice, he was busy watching traffic as it flowed by on the nearby street. She just hoped it was gone before he turned around and looked at her.

They stayed like that for a few moments until the side doors of the hospital opened and six men dressed in orange prison jump suits slowly trudged down the concrete ramp, escorted by four sheriff's deputies. They were battered and bruised, some had their arms in slings, others limped, and one had his right arm encased in a plaster cast. They moved slowly in a short line, their ankles shackled together and both Kensi and Deeks shared a short laugh about the irony of the entire situation. The six men could barely walk, much less run.

Deeks let out a short chuckle. "What? Do they think they're going to run away? They're barely mobile!"

Kensi started laughing along with him and then she said, "Maybe we should put our ninja on the payroll."

Deeks turned and looked right at his partner. "Our ninja? Well, Miss Blye, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you are a little taken with him."

"No that's not it at all ... I just meant that he got six gang-bangers off the street. Did LAPD's job for them." When the words left her mouth, she realized what she had said. "Deeks, I didn't mean ..."

"I know Fern and I happen to agree with you, I just hope that we can get something from them to help protect Hetty."

Kensi tapped him on his forearm. "Hop in, they're almost done loading them into the van." Deeks slipped around the front of the vehicle and climbed in beside her as she started the engine.

A few moments later, the deputies pulled out first and then the van pulled out into traffic, Kensi and Deeks right behind them. Deeks leaned over and turned the radio down enough that he wouldn't have to raise his voice in order to talk to his partner. "The corrections officers will deliver the Apple Dumpling Gang to the boatshed and the deputies will provide the extra security while we talk to them."

Kensi had heard the reference too many times and she had no idea what he was talking about. "Okay, please explain the 'Apple Dumpling Gang' phrase you keep using." She applied pressure with her right foot and the SRX's engine purred a little louder as it kept up with the vehicles in front of them as they merged onto the four lane that would take them to the warehouses on the waterfront.

Deeks looked over at her, a puzzled look on his face. "You're kidding, right?" The look on her face told him she was not. "You've never seen "The Apple Dumpling Gang"?... Tim Conway? ... Don Knots? ... 1975 Disney movie? Really?" The shrug of her shoulders relayed her ignorance of the matter. Deeks slowly shook his head as he softly chided her. "Fern, Fern, Fern, we need to have another movie night ... soon."

Kensi smiled to herself, it had been far too long since their last movie night and she was suddenly excited about the opportunity to spend some time with her shaggy partner away from work, guns, and bad guys. The three vehicles moved quickly down the highway, keeping to the right, letting other faster traffic pass them by on their left.

"Is it funny or serious?"

Deeks turned toward her a little in his seat before he replied. "It's kinda cheesy but some parts are hilarious; Don Knots and Tim Conway were comedic geniuses. I think even you can grasp their type of humor."

"If their's is anything like yours, I'll be asleep in the first fifteen minutes." She laughed at her comment; that was two already today.

"I can't help that you have no sense of humor Fern, but even you'll like it."

Kensi didn't want to admit that she would probably care less about what happened in the movie, she would be having too much fun just being with her partner, her best friend. She glanced up at the van in front of them and saw that traffic was slowing. "Looks like we got caught in the tail end of morning rush-hour, crap."

"What's wrong Fern? In a hurry to spend some quality time with the boys in their orange jump suits?"

"Deeks, would you just shut ... "

The corrections van directly in front of them exploded in a ball of white-hot fire, the force of the blast flinging pieces of metal and glass high into the air. The burning van coasted to the right and slammed into the metal railing that paralleled the highway. Kensi slammed on the brakes and whipped the steering wheel hard to the left in an instinctive move that probably saved them from crashing into the burning wreckage.

"Holy shit!" Deeks was screaming in the passenger seat, his right hand flying to the grab handle above the car door, his other hand flying to Kensi's chest, bracing her against the violent movements of the car. Normally she would have clobbered him for such a move, but the sudden explosion right in front of them had her a little pre-occupied. She could her other cars slamming on their brakes, horns were honking and she could hear people screaming. Before her car had even come to a complete stop, Deeks had unfastened his seatbelt and was out the door. He ran over to the burning wreckage, desperately looking for survivors. There were none.

The Sheriff's Department car had stopped just up the highway and the deputies came running back to help their comrades and the prisoners they were guarding. Deeks turned away from the conflagration and sadly waved for them to stop. There was no need, they were all gone.

Kensi ran around to where Deeks was standing, the deputies moved out to secure the scene and direct traffic around the still burning vehicle. Her concern for her partner clear on her face. "Are you okay?"

Deeks looked her up and down, checking for any obvious injuries. "I'm good, how about you?"

Kensi was still a little numb from what had just happened but she took the time to be thankful that they were both in one piece. "I'm good, but I think I may have wet my pants a little."

Deeks just smirked at her. "Yeah, join the club."

They moved closer together, taking comfort from the other's presence, they gently brushed arms as they turned to the burning vehicle. Deeks pulled out his phone and quickly called Ops.

Eric answered after just one ring. "Deeks, you guys okay? We were watching you guys on the traffic cams when the van exploded."

"We're fine Eric, but we lost the prisoners and the corrections officers. Send fire and EMS to our location."

"They're already on their way."

Deeks surveyed the chaos that was the scene of the explosion. "Thanks Eric, we'll stay on scene and wait for the forensics team. See you in a bit." He hung up his phone and turned back to his partner. They shared a momentary look as their adrenaline high began to fade, thankful that the other was unharmed.

They both turned their heads and looked at the remains of the van that continued to snap and pop. Deeks bumped his partner with his elbow. "Well, so much for The Apple Dumpling Gang."

Kensi nodded in agreement but she couldn't help the foreboding chill that ran up her spine. "Yeah, but now we have nothing to show for all this. We just lost our best shot at finding out who hired these guys to tail Hetty ... and why."

Deeks moved a little closer to her, the look on his face conveying his frustration as well. They stood that way until they heard the familiar sounds of the sirens coming closer and closer. This case had become serious in a heartbeat and apparently, these people were playing for keeps.

* * *

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**So, should I keep going with this? You guys let me know. **

**And please, if you have suggestions or corrections, just PM me and let me know what I 'm doing wrong ... or right ... or whatever. **

**Semper Fi**

**JS**


	5. Hunter

**A/N:** **To all of you out there still reading this, thank you and I hope you are still enjoying this crazy story. I wasn't planning on all the crazy DENSI (or KEEKS if you prefer) goodness in the last chapter but I just couldn't stop it. Please be patient, I'm trying to write all these characters as I see them and DENSI is just easy for me to write (hopeless romantic ... I know). The next chapters will have more of the others (Sam, Callen, Hetty, etc.), I'm just more comfortable writing one scene at a time instead of mashing them all together.**

**I have to story planned out in my head but if there is something missing or out-of-place, let me know and I'll try to fix it or merge it into the story if I can.**

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* * *

**Hunter**

A Remington Model 700 heavy barrel rifle lay partially disassembled right beside a clear ammo box holding twenty 168 gr. hollow point, boat-tail custom cartridges on a cheap wood table . The barely working T.V. played one of the local news broadcasts while the single occupant of the room rigorously cleaned any carbon build-up from the weapon's bolt. A small bottle of solvent sat among a pile of dirty cleaning patches and the pungent vapors filled the tiny hotel room as he scrubbed the bolt's face with a well-used brush. The weapon's owner had already removed and cleaned the action and barrel, checked the tension on the trigger spring, and torqued the components back into the glass-bedded custom stock. The weapon hadn't been dirty, it never was, this was just part of the normal preventive maintenance that was lovingly performed when there was some down time.

Sweat glistened on his skin as the outdated a/c unit in the window tried valiantly to overcome the California heat. He wasn't watching the television, but he was listening as the attractive blonde news reporter relayed the events of another day on Los Angeles. Glancing up at the wall to his right, the sight of the generic landscape painting caused a small smile to appear on the man's face. He was a long way from the Armani Hotel Dubai, but the low rate hotel just off Florence Avenue was just the out-of-the-way hole in the wall he needed. The attendant took cash for the room and didn't ask for any type of formal identification when he checked in under the name of Jordan Styles. Another point for anonymity was that the security camera perched high in the corner of the lobby hadn't worked since the Clinton administration. The rooms were all on the ground floor and the bathroom window would allow him to slip out completely unnoticed, if the bums who congregated in the alley there even acknowledged his presence. He could use this as a base of operations for as long as he would need it.

Behind him, on a small cabinet that had seen better days, several military grade laptops were running different programs, each tied into at least one law enforcement agency. They were feeding through a secure server located in a rented storage unit over on Ventura Boulevard and the encryption on the key codes was more than anyone at NSA would be able to handle on a good day. Attached to the last computer was the phone he had pulled out of the back pocket of the driver of the SUV he had crashed into the night before. The driver had two phones on him; Jordan had already confirmed which one was his personal phone and the one that was obviously a burn phone, probably provided by whomever had hired them. He had located the phone's i.d. number and was currently searching sale records to locate when and where the phone was purchased. If he discovered that, he should be able to confirm if more than one phone was purchased and who bought them.

Jordan had hoped that he was the only one left on this assignment, especially after the two shooters he ran into back in Berlin. That had surprised him. He hadn't known that he had accepted what's called an 'open' contract, where several operators are hired, paid a small retainer fee, and the full value of the contract is awarded to the one that makes the kill. He didn't like being in the dark about how many contractors were on a particular job. He had met enough over the years to know that some were very professional and some were just very nuts. Very nuts and very dangerous. Laying the bolt on the small cleaning towel, Jordan picked up the rifle body and gently applied a small amount of lubricant to the rails that the action would rest on. The bolt slid easily into place and he flipped the bolt forward and down, locking the bolt home in the action. Bringing the weapon up into his shoulder, Jordan pulled the stock into a tight off-hand shooter's hold, his face pressed against the raised check rest. Accurate out to twelve-hundred meters, the rifle in his hands was a deadly instrument that rested perfectly in his arms like a lover would. He stood quickly and walked over to the bed where he deftly flipped the mattress up to reveal his main weapon stash. Placing the custom-built left-hand rifle carefully on top of the box spring, Jordan hefted an Olympic Arms M-4 in .223 from under the mattress and walked back over to the small table where he immediately began the process of field stripping the assault rifle.

The sultry voice of the blonde on the TV suddenly changed in pitch and it caught Jordan's attention. He glanced up at the screen only to see a stretch of one of LA's many four-lane highways and several emergency vehicles surrounding a still smoldering vehicle.

"And in breaking news, only a few moments ago, it appears a vehicle exploded while traveling on interstate route 110 and according to eyewitness accounts, at least six people were killed. California State Trooper Crash Investigators are on the scene and have not yet determined the cause of the explosion. Local law enforcement officials have confirmed that the vehicle in question belonged to the California Department of Corrections and was transporting prisoners to federal custody when the explosion occurred. We will keep you updated as soon as more information is available."

Leaning to his left, Jordan tap a series of keys on one of the six laptops that were running various encrypted programs gathering intel from just about every law enforcement agency in the Los Angeles area: LAPD, FBI, NSA, even NCIS. Some of the access he had garnered through hard work on his part; some, though, came by way of the one who hired him for this particular assignment. He had wondered how a former KGB operative turned Russian mob boss had access to so much classified information from such secure agencies, the only possible conclusion was that there was someone on the inside, someone deep inside American intelligence.

A few more keystrokes and the laptop linked with the data pad that was currently in the hand of the LAPD bomb investigator as her team poured over the vehicle that had previously held two corrections officers and six members of the LAtin Kings street gang. He now had direct access to information that would never make it to the local news channels. They had just discovered that the explosive used was Semtex and that the trigger device had been attached to the vehicles speedometer cable near the transmission.

Now there appeared to be another hunter in town, one who liked high explosives.

Suddenly, Jordan's brow furrowed and he placed the assault rifle on the table, a memory running through his head. _Semtex ... the speedometer cable ... _a memory from a file from years ago. Typing quickly, Jordan pulled up a profile of a series of bombings, or rather executions, that had taken place in Bogata, Columbia in the late 1990's. Judges, police chiefs, detectives, and even some military officials had all met their ends in nasty car bomb explosions that had two things in common: Semtex and a trigger device that worked off the speedometer cable. All high value targets ... all killed in the same way ... by the same bomber. Now it appeared that very bomber had appeared in LA, and was apparently after the same target.

The bomber's identity had been confirmed as Hector De la Vega, who was a former bomb technician in the Columbian military. The bomber 'Hector' had become one of the most feared killers in that part of the world shortly after it was discovered scrawled on the door of a police commissioner's car door when he, his wife, and children had died in a fiery explosion after a night at the theater. It became his calling card after that night, and it appeared again and again at more and more blown up vehicles. Just as Jordan opened another window on the screen, the bomb technician typed in another entry. His suspicions were confirmed when he looked at the name that was discovered scratched inside the left fender ... HECTOR.

Jordan's mind began to wonder just how many killers were on this assignment and who would be the first one to actually get close enough to carry out the contract on the Lange woman. Whatever the reason behind the kill order, this was getting messy. The more killers that were placed in a small area, the greater the chance that they would cross paths. And that didn't bode well for someone who was looking forward to retired life ... someone like Jordan. He leaned back in the uncomfortable wood chair, his brow furrowed as he thought of the implications of what this could all mean for him, and the intended target. If one of the assassins got careless, the Lange woman may go so far underground that she may never resurface. She was currently located somewhere on Camp Pendleton and even though Jordan knew that she was vulnerable there, he had no great desire to tangle with fifty-thousand U.S. Marines. He may be crazy, but he wasn't stupid. But this new wrinkle was a cause for concern and action was needed.

It was time to step up his game. The cost of failure if some amateur thug made it to Henrietta Lange before him was not something Jordan was willing to think about. That just wouldn't be acceptable.

Not at all.

* * *

Nell heard Callen and Sam's heavy footsteps well before they rushed into ops. She turned just as they rushed in, their faces full of concern.

"So what happened Nell? Are Deeks and Kensi alright?" Callen stopped right beside her chair, one hand slipping to the back, the other landed on the edge of her workstation.

Nell nodded her head twice. "They're fine, a little shook up but no injuries."

Sam let out a long breath. "That's good, I get the feeling we are going to need all-hands-on-deck for this one."

"Yeah, but we lost the gang and anything they could have given us." Callen leaned back away from Nell's desk, a rather stern look on his face. "So what happened?"

Eric pulled up the feed coming in from the LAPD bomb techs. "The LAPD forensics team at the sight have already posted their preliminary findings. A small device was found attached to the vehicle's speedometer cable, there's not much of the device left. They found trace residue of both RDX and PETN."

Sam leaned back against the table in the middle of the room. "That's Semtex ... military grade high explosive."

"It's a favorite with terrorist groups because it doesn't require high-tech detonators." Callen wasn't sure if that was good or bad news. "What do we know about the van? Who had access to it recently?"

Eric continued to read off the report the bomb techs had posted. "The van used today was serviced at the County motor pool yesterday morning before being checked out for use in the prisoner transfer."

A few pressed keys and a video feed of the vehicle lot popped on the screen. Callen and Sam stepped back so they could see the large plasma as Eric continued. "This morning at 0230 hours, a power surge blacked out the main security cameras in the lot for about twenty-three minutes. This could be when the bomb was planted on the van."

Callen folded his arms across his chest. "So, the bomber knew which van was going to be used. How?"

"This was the only van available for transport for today." Nell turned her chair until she was facing the two agents. "All the other vans were out of service for maintenance. I dug a little into the fleetwise program the county uses and found that someone hacked into the system after the break-in and changed the preventative maintenance schedules for all the other vans. That just left the one with the bomb that could be signed out this morning."

"So, somebody disables the security cameras, breaks into the vehicle lot, plants a bomb, and then insures that only that particular van was checked out? Sam raised his eyebrows and glanced at his partner. "That's a lot of trouble to take out a two-bit street gang."

Callen shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it wasn't just to take them out. Maybe it was to keep them from talking?"

Those statements hung in the air for a few moments before Callen turned and faced Sam."Look at what we have: the gang follows Hetty, are intercepted by our 'ninja', end up in LAPD custody, are on their way to us, and then ... boom."

"Dead men tell no tales." Sam nodded his head softly. "So who killed them?"

Nell nodded toward the screen picture of the mysterious 'ninja'. "Was it him?"

Callen shock his head softly. "I don't think so."

Sam seemed to agree. "Yeah, why would he leave them on the side of the road where he had them cold, only to go through all that trouble to blow them up later?"

Eric shrugged his head to one side. "To make an example ... you know, 'shock and awe'?"

Callen disagreed. "Doubtful. Our 'ninja', as Deeks named him, could have killed these guys on the street last night, but from what I've seen on the video, he only used enough force to disable ... not to kill."

"Callen's right, with the moves he used, he could have taken them out then and not have to worry about them later." Sam moved over to the screen and pulled up a new file that had just been submitted by the bomb squad. "They think the bomb was triggered by a speed-reactive detonator."

When the two computer techs looked at him like he had just spoken in Greek, Sam explained. "It's like the one they portrayed in the movie 'Speed'."

Nell let a little excited sigh. "The one with Keanu Reeves in it?"

"Yep."

Nell sounded a little more girlish than normal when she spoke. "Cool."

Eric gave her a sideways glance before clearing his throat. "Really? What is it with that dude?"

"What? He was totally hot in that movie and he's still cute ..."

"Guys ... not now." Callen just shook his head. He was amazed at how the two techs sounded just like Kensi and Deeks sometimes.

"Sorry." Said in perfect unison, another trait eerily like the tall surfer and his dark-haired partner.

"So the van hits a set speed and the bomb is armed. When the speed drops below a certain speed, detonation."

Sam nodded along with his partner as the pieces fell into place. "The bomber doesn't even have to be anywhere nearby and no one knows there is a bomb until it goes off. Deeks and Kensi were lucky they weren't too close."

Callen agreed. "At least the bomb was just big enough to take out the van and not the entire street."

Eric waited as long as he could before asking the question that was nagging his mind for the last few moments. "So, what does this mean?"

Sam and Callen exchanged a dark look before the team leader spoke. "It means that we now have another player in the game."

Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And it appears that he likes to blow things up."

Callen's jaw clenched in frustration. With the threat to Hetty growing greater and darker as each minute passed, he began to wonder how much blood would be shed before it was all over. With each answer found, more questions arose. He had the feeling that his team was about to be pushed to their limits of endurance, and he just hoped that they were all up to the task. Looking over at Nell and Eric, he silently knew that even they would not be immune from the repercussions if the situation didn't resolve itself ... and soon.

Nell's computer screened flashed with a new memo from the forensic team and she instantly pasted it on the plasma. "They just found something interesting at the scene. The name 'Hector' was carved into the metal of the inside left fender."

"Hector?" Eric looked a little confused.

Sam pointed tot he screen. "When bombers get cocky, sometimes they like to leave a calling card, daring us to catch them."

"Eric ..."

"Already on it Callen ... searching for any references to a car bomber who likes to use Semtex, speed detonators, and goes by the moniker of "Hector'. I'll cross-reference with any reported thefts of military grade explosives in the last few weeks. This may take a while."

"That's okay, Sam and I will be down in the bullpen doing a little research of our own. Keep us posted and tell Kensi and Deeks to get back here as soon as the forensic team wraps up at the scene." Callen turned and walked through the double doors, Sam right beside him.

The big man's face carried a solemn expression. "I guess Granger's concern is well founded. What are you going to say to Hetty when she get's here?"

Callen plodded down the rest of the stairs and entered the bullpen, acting as if he hadn't heard his partner's question. Sam watched Callen take a seat at his desk and when he flipped open his laptop, decided to snap his team leader out of the funk that had so suddenly fell on him. "Hey, G., you okay?"

Callen seemed to mentally shake himself. "Yeah, sorry ... my mind wandered off."

"Worried about Hetty?"

The team leader nodded softly. "Yeah. And a few other things."

"Like what?"

Callen rocked back in his chair and interlocked his hands behind his head. "Hetty's in danger, we get that, but how did the gang know how to find her? How did our 'ninja' know when and where to intercept the gang? How did the bomber know we'd be getting the prisoners for interrogation?"

Sam sat down in his own chair and leaned forward to rest his muscled arms sat on top of his desk. "That information isn't public knowledge. Only law enforcement knew that they were coming to us from the hospital and who would be transporting them."

Callen continued with their train of thought. "Hetty's personal security counter-measures are beyond excellent. She has several aliases, different vehicles, she doesn't stay at the same place more than two nights in a row, she takes different routes when she leaves the mission ... hell, she's harder to track than a ghost."

Both agents sat in relative silence for few moments, their minds working to draw a conclusion from what they knew. Out of all the operatives they knew, Hetty was by far the best at keeping herself hidden ... if she didn't want to be found, well, she wouldn't. So, the basic question to be answered was how did a bunch of street thugs know how to find one of the best 'ghosts' in the business?

At the very same moment, the two partners came to the same conclusion. Callen was the first to speak. "There's someone on the inside."

"And they're deep enough to have access to Hetty's secrets." Sam finished.

They exchanged a look that conveyed a deep frustration that their boss had been sold out. That was the only reasonable explanation for how Hetty was apparently now so vulnerable. Her years at the C.I.A. had taught her how to hide secrets and disappear without a trace, but now, someone had given her up and she was target. Callen and Sam both knew that she was more than able to take care of herself, but this time, with the high level of danger, she just might be in over her head.

Callen was staring at a spot on the wall over Sam's head, completely lost in his thoughts. He had been with Hetty for so long now, that she, and the rest of his team, was the only family he had. She had protected him and guided him through so much over the past years; the Comescus, the deaths of Dom, Renko, Hunter, and Macy, the truth about his family, his almost fatal shooting, and on and on it went. If Callen had anyone in his life he could call 'mother', it was Hetty. The more he thought about that fact, the angrier he became and just like the mythical superhero The Hulk, you didn't want to see Callen when he got angry. People tended to end up in the hospital ... or worse.

Sam glanced over at his friend and saw the stern look that covered Callen's face, the set of his jaw, and the red color that was creeping up his neck. He had seen that look too many times before, usually right before Callen took somebody's head off. That had been the look right after the car Hunter was sitting in exploded and took away another colleague and friend. It was the same expression that ghosted over Callen when Dom had bled out on that roof-top when they had been so close to saving him. When Deeks had been undercover and they thought he had been in the car when it exploded, that very same look had appeared. It wasn't a good look on Callen, it showed a man on the verge of losing control, and Sam knew that he never wanted to be around when his friend finally did lose it. Threatening their boss, friend, mentor ... however you described Hetty, placed you in a direct line with a confrontation with one G. Callen, and that was not a place you wanted to be.

"G.?"

"Yeah Sam."

"You good over there?"

Callen blew out a long breath. "No , not really. It seems like we never seem to catch a break, you know?"

Sam glanced down at the piece of paper he had absent mindedly been folding into a small swan. He held it gently in his hands as if it was made of crystal, like it would break if he dropped it. The irony suddenly hit him. He had molded the small scrap into something beautiful and precious, but with just a little pressure exerted with his thick fingers, he could crush it right back into nothing. "Yeah, it seems like no matter how hard we work, how hard we fight, the evil is always there, waiting to destroy, to kill."

Sam smiled to himself as he tenderly placed the paper swan on the edge of his desk, right beside the miniature dog he had made the day before. For some reason, the two tiny creations sitting side-by-side caused Sam to think about Kensi and Deeks. _Shaggy and a princess. __Geez ... I'm getting soft. _

When Callen leaned forward in his chair, Sam snapped out of his thoughts. "We have to be careful with this one, until we discover who is giving out the intel on Hetty. We'll have to protect her, even though she won't think it's necessary."

"Yeah, I'll let you be the one to tell her that." Callen pointed across to his partner who quickly protested.

"Oh no ... that's your job!"

Callen shrugged his shoulders. "How so?"

"You're the _Senior_ Field Agent ... it falls to you."

"Maybe I should delegate that responsibility to another trusted member of my team, maybe the _Junior_ Field Agent ... give him some leadership opportunities."

"But she likes you more than she does me ... I'm still in her doghouse over the last tux I used and forgot to bring back on time."

Callen's mood had lightened a little now that his friend was badgering him. "No, I'm still paying for those pants I lost ... that was your fault anyway."

"Excuse me? My fault? How was that my fault?"

"If you hadn't invited me over to your house for a cookout, I never wouldn't have lost those pants." Callen sat back and smiled across the bullpen to his friend.

"Really?"

"Really."

Sam rocked back and mimicked his partner's stance. "Please, elaborate."

Callen's smile just got bigger. "Your kids talked me into playing that new dance-dance video game and I had to change into my spare clothes. When I left your place the next morning, I forgot those dress pants and now Michelle can't find them."

Sam's expression was one of mild amusement and slight aggravation. "So, you leave an article of clothing at my house and it's all my fault?"

"Yep."

The smile that grew across Sam's face went from ear to ear. "See if you get invited over for Michelle's Baklava ever again."

Callen sat up quickly. "That's not fair ... her's is the best I've ever had this side of Ankara!"

"Pants or Baklava?"

Callen just hung his head knowing that he would crawl across broken glass for just one taste of Michelle's mouth-watering Baklava.

Sam folded his arms across his muscled chest, his victory secured. This is why he loved working with Callen, no matter how the world dumped on them, they could still make each other laugh over something as silly as a pair of missing pants. The danger to Hetty was real and they had no idea what lay ahead, but with their team around them, Sam was confident that they would always prevail, not matter who stood against them.

"So, where does the gang fit into all of this?" Callen had flipped back into investigator mode.

"Well, with their records, they weren't anywhere near the level of our ninja or the bomber. Maybe they were just recon?"

"Local muscle hired to test the waters? See if Hetty was as good as the intel said?"

Sam rested his elbows on the edge of his desk and he shrugged his large shoulders quickly. "Maybe. Bad guy comes into town with pretty good intel but wants to make sure before getting too close. He hires a group of local bad-boys and sends them on a little fact-finding mission. Mission goes south and bad-boys get busted."

"In more ways than one." Callen shot out with a smirk and a soft chuckle.

"Now they are in custody and the bomber doesn't want them talking to any one, especially the local cops. He knows they are in the hospital for the night and so he breaks in, rigs a van to blow, and then doctors the maintenance records to leave only that van open for transport. All he had to do was wait until the local news reported the boom."

Callen leaned back in his chair, his hands back behind his head. "That sounds like a really bad Hollywood movie, you know?"

"Yep, it does. So did Cold War era nuclear weapons hiding in someone's basement ... and see where that got us."

"Touche'."

The expression on Sam's face turned very serious after a moment. Even though he did agree that this entire scenario sounded a little ridiculous, even for a movie, the danger was very real ... very real for their boss and anyone around her.

"So, we have a blown up gang, a ninja, a bomber, and a mole ... great, I thought this was going to be an easy week. I was looking forward to just putting up with Kensi and Deeks and all their flirting ... I mean, _bantering_."

Callen glanced over at his partner. "Yeah they have gotten worse over the last few weeks. I'm not sure who is going to shoot who first - Kensi or Deeks."

"I got money on Kensi."

"Ditto." The senior agent took a moment to give the big man a thoughtful look. "I thought S.E.A.L.s said that '_the only easy day was yesterday'_?"

A huge smile formed across Sam's face and he was about to speak when the computer monitor on the wall behind him chimed, and Eric and Nell's faces appeared. Sam swung around in his chair and Callen jumped up and hurried over to lean against the edge of Deeks' unoccupied desk.

"Hey guys, we've got something on the Semtex." Nell glanced down as she spoke and they could see her arms moving as she typed away. On the screen, there appeared a series of photos and reports that documented the information that the two techs had already analyzed. "Seven days ago, a tractor-trailer transporting military explosives hijacked while it was in route to the E.O.D. Marines out at Twenty-Nine Palms. Guess what was missing?"

"Semtex."

Eric pulled a manifest onto the screen. "Fifty sticks of it."

"Holy crap." Sam had worked with Semtex during his days as a S.E.A.L., so he knew how destructive one stick was, much less fifty. "He didn't have to use more than one or two sticks on the van, so that leaves a lot unaccounted for."

Callen shared his partner's concern about how much explosive was still in the hands of the bomber only known as Hector. "What did the report say about the hijackers?"

Nell smiled up at the screen, her left eye turned up in that look that said she had a little surprise in store for them. "The military report says that the contracted driver was jumped outside his truck at a fuel depot by handful of attackers. Some of them shot up the area while their buddies broke into the truck. The driver survived but his partner died in the shoot-out."

"Any I.D. on the attackers?"

Nell's smile had gotten bigger. "Just that they were Latino and they just happened to be wearing the same colors as the LATin Kings street gang. They were seen leaving in a black SUV whose description fits the one that was tailing Hetty. We downloaded the security camera footage and there were seven attackers that hit the truck."

Callen looked up quickly. "Did you say seven attackers?"

"Yes, seven according to the police report and the video." Nell confirmed.

Eric jumped in and stated what the others were already thinking. "There were only six in the SUV that was following Hetty."

"So we have an extra person that's unaccounted for." Callen rubbed his hand over the slight stubble on his chin. "We need to find him, he may be our only connection to Hector."

Sam and Callen sighed in unison at the revelation. Now they had a connection between the gang and the bomber and maybe there was more information they hadn't found yet. .

Sam was curious if anything else was missing from the shipment. "What else did the shipment have and what else is missing?"

Eric pulled the manifest back to the screen. "That's the strange part; the rest of the shipment wasn't touched, just the Semtex and they left another two thousand sticks on the truck. It's like they got what they needed and left the rest."

Callen knew exactly what that meant. "Hector knew exactly how much he needed for the job. If they took it all, they've got to haul around several hundred pounds of high explosives and that could be easy to spot. You can fit fifty sticks in a small duffel bag."

Eric now had the _I've got something to tell _expression on his face and he couldn't wait to share it. "I've found something on our bomber." Taping a few keys and another series of photos appeared on the screen.

"Meet Hector De La Vega, also known as The Blood of Bogata who likes to leave his first name scrawled on the vehicles he has blown up. He was formally a bomb technician in the Columbian military where he served with his brother Raphael. Hector disappeared after Raphael died in a friendly fire incident and resurfaced working for the Montoya drug cartel. Over the past five years, he has been linked to over two dozen bombings in South and Central America, mostly judges, police officials and military that the cartel wanted out-of-the-way. Now he free lances as a bomber for hire."

Nell's eye brows raised in confusion. "So why did our ninja intercept the gang, aren't they all working together?"

Callen folded his arms across his chest. "Not necessarily, I saw situations like this a few times while I was working for the C.I.A. It's could be an open contract; several assassins are hired to take out one target. The one who makes the 'kill' gets the big paycheck."

"Why didn't the ninja take out the gang on the side of the street last night?"

Sam looked up at the screen, his hands tucked into his jeans. "Maybe he didn't want the heat. Five gang members beat up and in the hospital wouldn't draw much attention; executed on the side of the road with traffic cam watching ... that's another story."

Callen agreed. "And he pulled the driver's phones, he's looking for his competition."

Eric asked the question that was nagging at him. "So, what happens if the ninja and the bomber run into each other?"

Callen looked over at his partner, a dark look on his face. "All hell is going to break loose."

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**As always, let me know what you guys think. It's taking me longer to get through this story than I thought it would. Hopefully Hetty will show up in here sometime soon. **

**Am I getting the characters right? I hope all this makes sense and that you guys are still enjoying it.**

**Semper Fi**

**JS**


	6. Moves

**Whew! You guys are insatiable! I'm so glad you all are still reading and reviewing ... it keeps me focused on the story. There are so many writers on here that are so much better than I am, I'm amazed I haven't been voted off the island.**

**Check out BH72's 'Double Take' or Sweet Lu's 'Vengeance' and 'Judgment', peanutbutterer has some awesome oneshots and NCISLAlover's 'Jack in the Box' keeps me coming back for more.**

**A/N: The last half of this chapter relates some of the bomber's techniques against his victims. I tried to keep it out of the MATURE range, I hope I succeeded but I wanted to warn you regardless. **

**And here is another chapter and somebody finally makes an appearance ...**

**...**

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**Moves**

Owen Granger stared aimlessly out the window of the black Ford Expedition as it traveled north on Vandegrift Boulevard. The vehicle's driver, Agent Thompson, had made excellent time traveling from the Office of Special Projects in Los Angeles to Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton. It was over eighty highway miles and Thompson had made the trip down the I-5 in almost record time and Granger was thankful that it hadn't been nearly as bad as riding with Special Agent Blye. He had eaten half a bottle of Tums after that little escapade.

Needing to catch up with Hetty as soon as possible, Granger was glad that traffic had been fairly light that morning. He had grabbed agents Thompson and Accordino and headed south to Camp Pendleton as quickly as he could. The situation in the operations center when he had departed that morning was, in a word, _tense_. He had spent the long drive contemplating how all of this was going to play out and exactly how they were going to get out of this mess intact. Mr. Beale had called and informed him of the explosion that killed the gang members and the two correction officers. This was getting serious rather quickly and he knew that is was probably doing to get a lot worse before it got better.

Taking a moment to glance out his window, Granger took in the view as the large SUV moved closer to the Joint Training Facility were Hetty was currently located. Red roofs, made of traditional terracotta or more modern steel, covered the sand colored buildings that sat among tall palm trees. Everywhere he looked he could see men and women in uniform, most were Marines but there were plenty of sailors and a few army as well. The population of the base on most days swelled to almost one-hundred thousand people, military and civilian. Between the school of infantry, logistics, expeditionary forces, cross-force training, desert warfare, the base that spanned over one-hundred thousand acres sometimes seemed a little crowded.

Assistant Granger admired the Margarita Mountains those rose to the northeast as they climbed away from the Pacific Ocean. He had always loved this part of the country, D.C. was a little too cold for his liking, but every time he came out to the West Coast, it was always because of something unpleasant. And here he was again, another situation that required his presence, and even though he liked being here, he knew he was never welcome at the Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles Division.

It never really bothered him too much that Callen and the rest of his team didn't like him; well, to be honest, he knew they hated him. Unfortunately, his position as Assistant Director didn't allow him to make many friends and, really, he couldn't blame them. If someone came into his backyard and started shaking things up, giving orders, and generally being a pain-in-the-ass ... he'd feel exactly the same way. A lot of the time though, the others didn't know what he did or couldn't grasp the big picture and that lead to questioning the motives behind his actions. With great authority comes great responsibility, and Owen Granger took that responsibility very seriously. Sometimes the hard call had to be made, sometimes the greater good outweighed the personal pain that occurred, sometimes you had to order people to go on a mission, knowing that they wouldn't return. And sometimes this job just plain sucked.

These thoughts were plaguing the Assistant Director as Agent Thompson pulled the vehicle into the parking lot of a long, multi-story building surrounded by rows of date palms that swayed in the soft breeze. The Expedition hadn't come to a complete stop before Agent Accordino had swung his door open and quickly scan the area before opening the rear door for Granger. Even though they were surrounded my military, the Assistant Director was extremely pleased at the professionalism displayed by the two agents. He could see Thompson searching the surrounding area for threats and Dino's eyes hadn't stopped sweeping the courtyard.

"Keep the engine running Thompson, Accordino and I will retrieve Ms. Lange." Granger spun quickly toward the main entrance to the building, Agent Accordino right on his heels. They had just stepped up to the security desk and raised their badges when the very woman they had come for appeared as if by magic from the middle of a group of senior Marine officers.

Hetty stopped and turned to face Granger, her hands clasped gently in front of her pen-striped skirt. "Assistant Director Granger, I thought you were unable to attend today's conference, is that not why you sent me in your stead?"

Granger cleared his throat and nodded his head ever so slightly. "Henrietta, I hope that I'm not tearing you away from something important, but there is a situation that needs your immediate attention. I am here to escort you back to Los Angeles as soon as possible."

The serious expression on his face and the tone of his voice, indicated to Hetty that this was no trivial matter. She turned to the full bird Marine Colonel standing at her right arm and lightly touched his left forearm. "My apologies David, it looks like our lunch plans will have to wait for another time."

The tall Marine clicked his heels together and bowed as he raised her hand to his lips. "No apologies required Henrietta, we will have other opportunities to reminisce about old times. Take care and God's speed."

Hetty nodded then smiled gently as the man placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "Semper Fi David."

"Semper Fidelis Henrietta," and with that, he spun on his heel and rejoined the other officers as they moved into the foyer, their conversation quickly blending with the rest of the conference attendees.

Granger steeped up beside her as she watched the tall Colonel disappear through one of the side doors that dotted the main hall. "Was that Colonel Myers? I didn't know he was in town."

"David has just been appointed commanding officer of the 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion and we were about to have lunch and catch up ... but that's not to be is it Owen?"

Looking down at the floor, Granger sighed heavily. "Sorry to say it is not. We have a situation developing in L.A. that requires your presence immediately."

Hetty pursed her lips and walked toward the large double doors that led out into the courtyard. Granger stepped in beside her, shortening his pace to match hers. Agent Accordino was to their front and few steps to the right, this gave him the best view to scan the personel moving about the building and also the clearest sight through the windows to the outside. He hadn't been briefed on the details of the situation, he only had Assistant Director Granger direct orders to give Ms. Lange full V.I.P. protection, and to be as discreet as possible.

The automatic doors swished open and the three stepped out into the hot California air. Thompson was still sitting behind the wheel of the Expedition and he was also observing everything that was happening around the area. Dino moved quickly to open the rear door for Ms. Lange and when she was seated inside, he closed her door and stood tall, giving the courtyard a final look-over before he jumped into the passenger seat. Granger had already slipped into the rear seat behind Thompson and they were quickly pulling away from the curb.

As the large SUV pulled back out into the traffic moving south on Vandegrift Boulevard, Hetty pressed the switch that raised the privacy screen between the driver and passenger compartments. When the glass slipped into its locked position, she spoke, but didn't look in Granger's direction. "So Assistant Director Granger, what has you so rattled you had to drag two agents eighty miles to Camp Pendleton to escort me back to L.A.?"

This was the moment he had dreaded since the threat to Hetty had appeared ... actually telling Hetty. He looked over at the diminutive woman sitting beside him and was grateful for her years of experience dealing with situations like this one. The corner of his mouth turned up sharply as he silently wondered who was really in the most danger, Hetty or the people sent to kill her. Though small in size, Henietta Lange was not a weak woman and under no circumstances should she be thought of as defenseless. In fact, she was probably the deadliest woman Granger had encountered in his long career.

Before his silence was interpreted as rudeness, he finally spoke. "It seems as though we have a security issue involving your office."

The look that Hetty shot at him would have scared a weaker man, but Granger had been around her too long to be affected. "I doubt very seriously that there is a security issue in regards to the agents assigned to my office _Owen_. This isn't one of you little silly scenarios to test my team ... _again_ is it?"

A large grin appeared on his face as he thought back to all the times he had barged into Hetty's office, blustering about some perceived deficiency in one or more members of her élite team, only to have to eat crow shortly afterwards. He really wished that this was one of those times.

Seeing his smile begin to quickly fade, Hetty knew that there was something else happening. "This doesn't involve one of my team does it Owen?"

"No Henrietta, I'm sorry but it doesn't."

Hetty had known that there was an issue ever since Granger had unexpectedly asked her to take his place at the regional conference taking place at Camp Pendleton. He had ushered her out of the mission directly into a waiting Marine Corps Base vehicle were Colonel Myers had been waiting. They were whisked to the base at record speed and the only peculiar item had been that their Marine escorts had been fully armed. She had guessed that the additional security had been for David's benefit, now she knew better.

"How does this concern me Owen?"

The dark expression that formed on his face indicated to her that this was serious, and not some silly test the agency had cooked up to see if her office was running at peak efficiency. "Was there anything peculiar that you notice anything on your drive home last night?"

Hetty cocked her head to one side and looked over at the solemn man. "Does this have anything to do with the dark SUV that was tailing me on my way home?"

Granger didn't answer, he just fixed her with his poker face, hoping she wouldn't see beyond his mask. She did anyway.

"Ahh." Hetty waited a few seconds before she spoke again. "They weren't just thugs looking to boost my Jaguar." It was statement, not a question.

"It seems they were tasked with tailing you ... advance recon."

"They were very sloppy, I lost them quickly but I get the impression that there is more to the story."

Granger nodded and began to relay all the data he had. "After you ditched them, they were intercepted by another vehicle, whose driver disarmed the group, left them for LAPD to pick up, and then simply disappeared. This morning while you were attended the conference in my place, the men from the SUV were being transported to your boatshed for interrogation."

Granger paused for a moment, letting his companion absorb the information. "They never made it. Six members of the LAtin Kings street gang along with two department of corrections officers died when the van they were in exploded while traveling along the 110. Agent Blye and Detective Deeks were escorting them in a following vehicle but they were not harmed."

Hetty silently breathed a sigh of relief that neither of her young team members were injured, but she felt a pang of regret over the two correction officers. Even though she didn't know them, they had died because of something related to her, and she hated that.

"The bomber's identity is unconfirmed but evidence points to a bomber-for-hire who previously operated throughout South and Central America; goes by the name of 'Hector'."

Hetty looked out the window as they passed through the main gate of the Marine base and the vehicle turned north, heading back to L.A.

"I assume that he is not the same man who intervened in regards to my unwanted travel guests last night."

"Yes. We do not think that the two are working together. Agent Callen contacted me shortly before I arrived at Pendleton. The evidence so far points to two separate operatives, with only one connection."

Hetty waited a moment before asking the question that hung in the air like a heavy weight. "And what connection is that?"

His voice low and sharp, and he didn't hesitate. "You Hetty. We believe that they are here for you."

"In what capacity are they here for me?"

"_That_, we do not know. All we have is a bomber who killed what we think was his recon team before we could talk to them and another player whose motives we can only guess at. Your team is working to positively identify the one Detective Deeks has named 'The Ninja' and to track down Hector before he strikes again. They don't have much to go on, but they are tenacious when it comes to their operations manager, so I'm confident that this will be resolved quickly."

"You're so confident that you had to rush me out of the city with armed Marines and now you are taking me back with two agents providing cover? You really need to work on your poker game Owen, a blind man could see your 'tells'."

Granger chuckled to himself and another wide grin formed on his lips. "We have played way too many hands for me to worry about you reading my 'tells' Henrietta. But I feel that a few extra precautions should be taken until this is all cleared up."

When she saw his eyes glance towards the two agents in the front seat, she knew exactly what he was saying without actually saying anything, Hetty raised her eyebrows and looked over at her companion as if his hair was on fire. "Oh come on Owen, you can not be serious!"

A cold look was her first clue that this was about to take a serious downturn. "I am. As of this moment you are under protected status and a security detail has already been assigned. You will not leave any secured site without the presence of no less than two armed agents with you at all times. You will not return to any of your current residences under any circumstances and you will billet in safe houses that will be of my choosing."

"Your choosing?" Then it dawned on her. "They knew what I was driving and where I was going. They have intel that no one outside of a very few have access to ... there's a mole."

"It would seem so. Somewhere, somehow, there's somebody that has access to your secrets, fortunately that is a very small group. It should be easy to track down the leak and plug it."

Hetty pursed her lips into a tight line before she spoke again. "Owen, we all know that one's secrets never stay secret forever."

They sat there in silence for several minutes, each enjoying the view of the Pacific to the west or the foothills of the Margarita Mountains that rose gently from the coastline. Agents Thompson and Accordino could be seen through the security glass, carrying on a conversation of their own. Hetty noted that Accordino was very animated with his hands when he got excited and Thompson seemed to have lost interest in the topic about ten mile markers ago. She knew them fairly well, she knew everyone that worked in her office, not just her 'A-team'. Accordino had been in the Marines and had served honorably before being recruited into N.C.I.S. and Thompson had come over from the D.E.A. after many years of exemplary service. She was pleased that Granger had chosen two of her best agents to bring with him even though she thought his little security detail was a bit over the top. But she also knew that Owen Granger, even though he could be a total blockhead sometimes, could be a tenacious and deadly adversary.

"Owen, I know that you think you are doing what is necessary to protect me but I am fully capable of taking care of myself."

Granger turned slightly in his seat so he could face the unpretentious woman beside him. "Henrietta, we have known each other far too long for me to ever doubt your ability to protect yourself. That's not the only reason we need to keep an eye on you."

When she realized what Granger was saying without really saying much, she couldn't hold back the chortle of laughter that escaped from her lips. "Owen, I apologize, you are still a cunning man. You are going to use me as bait to draw out the contractors so our teams can take them down. _Brilliant_."

Smiling broadly from ear to ear, Granger lowered his eyes at the unexpected compliment. "And hopefully we can learn who hired them in the first place, but only if you agree to it Hetty, I won't risk your life unnecessarily. If you think that this is a bad idea, we'll hide you away and dig them out another way."

Reaching over to lightly touch his arm, Hetty patted him gently. "You know I love a good game of chess Owen, and this has the makings of a great one."

"So, are you in?"

The resolute expression that set like stone on her features answered him even before she spoke.

"Absolutely."

* * *

The early afternoon sun filtered through the floor to ceiling windows of the regal Mondrian hotel, right on the Sunset strip at the outskirts of Beverly Hills. It was the quintessential California hotel, recently redesigned by the designer Benjamin Noriega Ortiz and the view of downtown Los Angeles was breathtaking.

Steam filled the large bathroom just off the opulent studio suite and water vapor covered the silver framed mirror that hung above an Ortiz designed polished bowl sink. The chrome of the faucet gleamed under the bright L.E.D. lights that sat recessed into the stuccoed ceiling as steam poured over the glass door of the shower enclosure. Water droplets from the rain shower head fell onto the shower's lone occupant, a rather slight man who had the typical black hair and dark skin of someone from South America ... Columbia to be exact.

As he let the hot water cascade down over his body, his hands pressed against the marble wall tiles, Hector De la Vega felt his tight muscles finally begin to relax. The failure of his recon team to complete their simple mission had left him a little angry; well, actually, a lot angry. How they managed to blow an easy recon was beyond him. He knew now that relying on cheap local muscle hadn't been a good call even after they pulled off the Semtex hijacking without a hitch. Maybe it had more to do with the man who had intercepted them rather than their own incompetence. He wondered in another player had already set up here in L.A. _Why can't anything be easy?_

The night before, he had been monitoring the local police radio chatter when the call had come in about a wreck between a stolen car and a black SUV. The alleged gang-fight afterwards had resulted in De la Vega's team ending up in police custody. One of the cartels' contacts at the LAPD had texted that indeed it was the LAtin Kings posse that had been involved. He couldn't take the chance that they would turn on him to save their own skins, he knew that they would. So, planting a small explosive charge on their transport van had really been his only option. He had shown uncharacteristic restraint in the size of the bomb. Usually, he didn't care about collateral damage but he was forced to use just enough explosive to get the job done.

There was another reason he had killed the gang with the very Semtex they had stolen from him; they had gotten greedy. They had acquired the fifty sticks of the explosive for him but had only delivered twenty-five, the rest they were holding until he paid them more money. That had enraged him when they had crossed him that way, but he needed the Semtex and so, he swallowed his anger and agreed to pay them what they wanted. The target was close and De la Vega didn't have time to play around with a bunch of two-bit street thugs. He had planned on paying them and then blowing them to Mars, but their arrest had moved up his timetable. Unfortunately, he was still short the twenty-five sticks, and he was desperate to acquire them. He had plans later that night to track down the one member of the little gang that wasn't in the SUV last night. And the kid would cough up the rest of the order or he would place small charges between his toes and blow him up a little at a time.

Hector's mouth curled into an evil smile as the hot water continued to run down his body. He hadn't inflicted that sort of pain on any one on a long time, not since he was in Bogata. She had been a mule for one of the branches of the Montoya cartel but she had become greedy and started skimming off of the top. Hector had been dispatched to take care of her and send a message about what happens to people who steal from the Montoyas.

He had taken her to a warehouse that sat on the Panamanian border, deep in the jungle where no one would hear her screams. And how she screamed. At first, he had been struck by her beauty; long black hair, big brown eyes, long legs that went on forever. In another world, she could have been a model, but her retched life had led her into drug smuggling and now to Hector's clutches.

His orders were to make an example of her, an easy job. But Hector had always had a flair for the dramatic and decided to have a little more fun than a simple kill. She had hung from a chain suspended from the ceiling for days, thirst and hunger gnawing at her from the inside and rats on her from the outside. After days of this, he was still struck by her beauty and had decided that it was a shame to let it all go to waste. So he raped her repeatedly over the next few days until she grew too weak to even moan.

The woman's pitiful pleas to end her life almost caused Hector to fulfill her last wish, but at the last moment, the old rage returned. The rage that ate away at his soul, the rage that had started growing at the death of his beloved brother. Pity vanished and absolute evil returned. Hector gave her water and when she was strong enough to stay conscious, she learned that her suffering had just begun.

Explosives are funning things; they can level entire buildings or pop the lock out of a door with little damage to the structure. That's what had given Hector the inspiration for his nasty technique of tormenting victims. Small charges. like the size of dime or quarter, and be placed just about anywhere on the human body; between the toes and fingers, under the armpits, behind the knees, the genitals, the buttocks. These small charges tear and rend the body but they also cauterised the wound, keeping blood loss to a minimum and the human body take a lot of damage.

She had lasted four more days.

Hector tasted blood in his mouth and realized that in his excitement, he had bitten he inside of his cheek. He also had become quite aroused at the memory of the pretty woman's death. His excitement actually caused his body to tremble with anticipation, maybe he would have the opportunity to apply explosives to the Lange woman and watch her squirm when they detonated.

No longer able to control himself, he shut off the shower and quickly dried himself with one of the plush towels that hung on the nearby rack. He hadn't dried completely when he wrapped the towel around his waist and entered the suite's main bedroom where a young dark-haired beauty slept nude on top of solid white duvets and Egyptian-cotton sheets. She had small bruises on her thighs and chest, nothing major, but she had agreed to his rather kinky demands before she had taken his money so Hector considered her body his property that he had paid well for. She was a high-priced call-girl that Hector had requested the night before, telling the facilitator on the phone that he needed a woman that enjoyed rather 'physical' activities. She wasn't cheap, he only paid for the best, and well, she was.

He walked across the bamboo floor and passed by the oak coffee table where there were still small lines of cocaine left over form the little party they shared earlier and he dropped the towel from his waist and jumped up on the bed, waking his companion. Her eyes falling to his obvious excitement, the woman purred as she sat up sleepily. She spoke in Spanish, knowing he liked it that way. "Are you ready again ... so soon?" Her tone was sensual but he saw absolute fear behind her eyes. _Perfect._

Hector pulled her hard against his damp body, twisting her arm up behind her back as he did. The soft squeal of pain that fell from her lips making his heart beat faster and faster. "It is barely afternoon my dear and I will continue to give you what you _want_." He nodded toward the table where the coke lay ready for use. "If you continue to give me what I _want_." He punctuated the last word with an upward jerk of her trapped arm and she hissed in pain but still nodded her head quickly.

She put on her best seductive smile, hoping he wouldn't see the fear behind it, she was prepared to surrender to any demand he made as long as the white powder she craved continued to flow and he didn't hurt her too much He slowly bent her backwards on the bed, her moans becoming soft gasps as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of her shoulder. The bite marks and bruises would fade, but the woman was more concerned about just walking out of the room alive, so she let him do what he wanted, the coke would help mask some of the pain, but not all of it.

When her eyes met his, all she saw was a man devoid of a soul, a man who never cause enough pain, kill enough people to fill the hole inside of him. She knew he would kill her if she didn't do everything he requested, so she swallowed her fear and kissed him hungrily. There were actresses over in Hollywood who couldn't have pulled off a more convincing performance.

She just prayed it would be enough.

...

* * *

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**You guys still with me? I know I've spent a lot of time developing the characters and the action has been a little lite ... working on that. Please let me what you think ... good or bad. **

**Thanks for reading ... you guys are the greatest!**

**Semper Fidelis**

**JS**


	7. Progress

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the great feedback on the last chapter. I tried to make Granger a little more human and get inside his head without making him completely loveable. Most of you seemed to be ok with that; being in charge isn't as easy or fun as it seems.**

**We are getting closer to the collision between the team and Hector ... and what the 'ninja' is up to, well, you'll just have to wait and see.**

**Thanks a million guys, you are the best.**

**Sadly, I only own the characters I created in this story, not the wonderful ones that belong to CBS and Shane Brannon, long may he reign.**

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* * *

**Progress**

Sam and Callen stood side by side behind one very fidgety technician and one preoccupied analyst as they furiously typed away on their respective keyboards. The two techs were so involved in their actions, they had yet to notice the two agents who had entered silently and were right behind them. Occasionally, Eric would glance over at his partner, just to see where she was in her work, and it was beginning to slightly annoy her. When she had caught him doing it again, she smiled softly to herself, thinking that even if it was annoying and silly, she found it cute. She just couldn't let him know that.

"Eric."

The blond tech's eyes snapped back to his own screen so fast his eyes almost got whiplash. He tried to keep his voice at an even tone, but it came out as a soft squeak. "Yeah?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

Nell bumped his elbow with her own. "You know what."

"I was just checking to see if your search parameters are wide enough to catch ..." He stopped talking when he felt her eyes, like a pair of high-intensity lasers burning into the side of his head. "Ahem ... okay, stopping."

She smiled softly at his embarrassment, touched by his boyish behavior. "Thank you."

Eric glanced over at her, his head cocked gently to the side. "Sorry."

"It's okay, _one-__minute-m__an__."_

Eric's eyes flew open and his face lost all expression. "That's not funny Nell, I was having a bad night."

"Bad night? You only lasted for twenty seconds and you had to take a thirty minute breather before you were ready to go again."

"I pulled my back when I fell on top of you."

Nell's eyes met his, her lashes batted playfully. "And you though it would be easy?"

Sam was nervously looking down at his shoes and Callen had heard way more than he wanted too. "Ahem ... what would be easy?"

They spun around, questioning looks on their faces. Eric had a totally lost look on his, but Nell quickly realized how their conversation would sound from a certain perspective. She didn't say anything but her smile was so big it actually hurt her face. It must have clicked with Eric too, he started turning beat red.

"I ... we were ... I mean ... it wasn't ..." Words seemed to be a major problem for the blonde tech at the moment.

Nell couldn't watch as her friend self-destructed so she jumped in for the save. "Paint-ball palace Saturday night. Eric and I went up against a couple of twelve-year-olds and they wiped the floor with us. They gave Eric the nick-name "One-minute-man" after he went out in first round in less than twenty seconds."

Sam and Callen both let out a long sigh of relief at the simple misunderstanding. Eric's coloring began to return to normal and Nell just shook her head at the way the older agents had started jumping to conclusions. _Men and their one-track minds._

Deciding that now was a good time to redirect the group back to the task at hand, Callen pointed to their computer screens. "So did you have something to tell us or did you just want some tactical pointers on paintball?"

Both techs spun around in their chairs, their fingers instantly flitting over the keyboards. Nell spoke to them over her right shoulder. "Meet Juan Zappula, known member of the LAtin Kings; in and out of juvenile for petty infractions but has moved up to more serious crimes: robbery, theft, assault. His name and number were the most frequent one found in the call logs in the phones of the five deceased members of the gang."

"He also fits the description of one of the hijackers from the Semtex theft." Eric typed a handful of keys. "But on the night the gang was tailing Hetty, he had texted another member, David Vellegas, that his mother was sick and he couldn't go with them."

"He wasn't busted by our ninja and therefore, he wasn't in the van when it exploded." Nell nodded toward a picture of the destroyed corrections vehicle.

Sam moved up next to Eric's workstation. "So, a sick mother actually saved his life."

"Looks that way."

"Do we have a current residence on Mr. Zappula?"

Eric shook his head sharply. "No, we don't; he doesn't seem to stay into one place for too long."

Callen and Sam's expressions openly displayed their disappointment. Tracking the Semtex would lead them to Hector, hopefully before something else blew up. They needed that kid and they needed him right now.

Nell's chipper tone pulled them back to her screen. "But we do have an address for one Daniella Zappula, his sick mother."

Callen nodded to his partner and they turned toward the double doors of the operations center. "Nell ..."

"Sending her address and Juan's photo to your phones." Nell turned around but just caught the retreating backs of the older agents. She glanced over at Eric and let her smile falter slightly. "A 'thank you' would have been nice."

Just before they exited through the double doors of the operations center, as if he heard her, Callen called back over his shoulder. "Good work Nell."

Eric's expression fell at his work's exclusion but before he could think of a response to convey his disappointment, Sam called out from just outside the room. "You too, One-Minute-Man!"

All the other agents and analysts in the immediate area turned and stared at the blonde technician, most looked confused but some wore playful smiles.

"Now that was totally uncalled for."

Nell couldn't stop the giggles that started and just became worse the harder she tried.

...

* * *

Word on the street travels fast, even faster than texting in some cases and because of this, Juan Zappula was scared out of his mind.

He hadn't slept at all the night before, mainly because he was sitting with his mother who was having a nasty fight with the flu, but also because he hadn't heard from the guys. She was feeling better today but he was hanging around, just in case she needed him. But now, he was pretty sure that he felt worse than she did. Earlier, a kid from down the block had just told him about the guys getting busted and now, he just got the word that they were dead ... all of them.

They had grown up together, went to the same school, lived in the same neighborhood, and now, there were five families that would have to bury another set of young men, long before they should. There were some who say that they got what they deserved, a bunch of street thugs that caused others pain and anguish ... good riddance.

But did those people really know the paths that had brought these young men to their early deaths? No, probably not. Did they know that Carlos, whose father would beat the crap out of him every night, would always have a silly story to tell that would make all of them laugh, even Guiermo? Guiermo, who had lost his little brothers in a house fire when he was only eleven? Did they know that Romero had been shot twice before he was even sixteen, that David had wanted to get out of the hood but a dime bag of grass under the passenger seat of his car had cost him everything? That Raphael wanted to do nothing more than take care of his mother but had watched her turn back to the meth again and again until it finally claimed her life between two garbage dumpsters in a dark alley? And that Manuel, the oldest and leader of their little group, had become like their older brother, taking care of them when no one else would. No, to the society around them, they were delinquents, trouble, unwanted, and there would be few to shed tears at their passing.

There were tears in Juan's eyes though, they had been the closest things to brothers he had ever had, they had protected him when bigger kids had bullied him because of his short stature, and right now he felt like he had lost a huge part of his family. _If only we hadn't got involved with that bandito from Columbia! Holy Mary, Mother of God, why had we been so greedy! _Stealing the Semtex had been fairly easy and killing the guard hadn't been part of the plan. If he hadn't tried to pull his gun on Romero, they would have made off with the goods and no blood would have been shed. It had sounded like a good idea to hold half of the explosives for more money so maybe they could finally break out of the hood and move somewhere where you weren't getting shot at all the time.

But now, his friends were dead, he had twenty-five sticks of Semtex that some crazy Columbian would be looking for, his mom was still disappointed in him, and he saw no way out. Those were the thoughts floating through his head as he looked out the front of window of his mom's house. He watched as little Jorge peddled his bicycle along the edge of the sidewalk as a stray dog ran along beside him. Across the street, Mister Estevez leaned out his front door and yell for Jorge to stop riding on the sidewalk and to get away from that mangy mutt.

That's when he saw a shiny black dodge charger parked across from his mom's house. No one in the neighborhood drove one of those and immediately, Juan's senses kicked in. The cops would be looking for whoever hit the explosive shipment and the loco dude from down south wanted his merchandise. He hopped up from his seat and he carefully moved closer to the window to take a better look. From this distance, he couldn't see if there was anyone still in the car and there was no one else on the street. Juan glanced to make sure the front door was still locked, then he made his way back through the house. He stopped just long enough to check on his mother; her fever was gone and she was sleeping soundly in her bed. He scribbled a quick note that he would come back and check on her when he could, before he kissed her softly on the forehead and headed toward the back door.

Juan scanned the empty garden behind the house before he eased the door open and nervously stumbled down the wooden steps. He moved toward the chain link gate that sat in the corner of the yard before he stopped again to take a look around. The charger was on the other side of the house, so even if there was someone watching the front, this side was completely obscured from observation. He slid the latch up and stepped in between his mom's and Mrs. Alvarez's place next door, letting the gate quietly click closed behind him. The bushes at the corner would hide him as he left the little path and if he could make it to the alley out back, maybe he could slip away and figure out a way out of this mess.

"Juan Zappula?"

Juan didn't even look in the direction of the male voice that came from somewhere near the front of his mom's place, he just ran as fast as he could away from it. He ducked his head, waiting for the gunshots that he knew were coming ... but they never came. He thought he heard footfalls crunching on the loose gravel and mutters of '_I'm getting too old for this'_ before the commanding voice called out, "Stop federal agents!"

The opening to the alley was only ten or so steps away and if Juan could make that, then a sharp right turn then maybe he could shake them in the backyards and empty lots that would be an insane maze to anyone who hadn't grown up here. A cunning smile formed on Juan's face as the alley moved closer and closer. Just before he reached his goal, a large, bald African-American man launched himself through the opening, effectively closing off Juan's only escape route.

Juan's feet skidded to a stop, gravel flying out from under his shoes just as the big man held up a large hand in the universal signal for 'stop'. Reversing direction as fast as any jack-rabbit, Juan spun quickly only to come face-to-face with another rather stern looking man whose steel-blue eyes froze the young man in place. Shoulders slumping and his chest pounding, Juan conceded defeat and raised his hands in surrender.

Sam moved cautiously up behind the young man, looking for any obvious weapons as Callen continued to give him the patented G. glare that could freeze boiling water.

"Juan Zappula, we need you to come with us. We have some questions and you, sir, have the possible answers."

Juan nodded slightly but his eyes never left the rather serious looking man with the intense eyes that held no real animosity. "Mister please, no cuffs, my mom might see." The man's eyes shifted to the one behind him, and an unspoken question was asked and answered in a millisecond. Juan felt intimidated by the two but he sensed no real danger as the big guy patted him down and the other just stood there.

They led him out to the empty street and to the shiny car, both of the agents close enough to grab him if he bolted but back enough to not raise any alarms from any observers. The big man moved to the driver's seat while the other agent opened the back door and let Juan slide across the seat before sitting in beside him.

As the Dodge Hemi roared to life, Juan turned to the man sitting beside him. The man appeared relaxed, but intense when he began to speak. "So Juan, what can you tell us about some stolen Semtex and a man named Hector?"

The man didn't seem to expect an immediate answer as he turned a looked out the window and Juan began to wonder at just what-in-the-world he had gotten himself into.

* * *

Kensi's silver SRX weaved through the afternoon traffic like a running back trying to score a touchdown in the last-minute of the big game. The sounds of car horns, irate motorists and quite a few obscene hand gestures flowing in the wake of the seriously aggressive dark-haired driver. She took a few unnecessary risks, followed a bit too closely, changed lanes without signaling and generally made all the other drivers on the highway a tad nervous. They were just glad when she passed them by without running them off the road.

"It's the slender pedal on the right you idiot!" Kensi yelled to the blue Volkswagen that was currently impeding her path of travel. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. She wasn't angry or in any particular hurry, this was pretty much just the regular "Kensi Blye Driving Experience" and she had been this way for years.

This was why so few people liked to ride with her; Callen, Sam, even Nell would always meet her rather than ride anywhere if she drove. Only Deeks seemed to have an immunity against the demolition derby that Kensi called 'driving'. He would usually make comments about near death experiences or being drawn toward the light. But as she did her best Danica Patrick impersonation, her partner just sat calmly in the passenger seat, idly staring out the window. He had been a little morose since they left the scene of the explosion and none of his usual banter or comments had been forthcoming.

Taking her eyes off the road for just a second, Kensi glanced over at her blonde partner. "Deeks?"

He didn't seem to hear her and she actually had the radio volume set at a fairly reasonable level. She spoke a little louder. "Hey Shaggy?"

Still, he seemed lost in his thoughts, totally unaware of his surroundings. She had rarely seen him this way; the last time was when his friend Ray had been in town and Deeks was trying to think of a way to save his life. She began to wonder what could be occupying him at the moment. Could it be the danger to Hetty? Kensi knew that the operations manager and the detective shared a peculiar bond that she didn't really understand. Maybe it was the explosion that they had witnessed. _That_ had been a close one.

Kensi reached over and tapped him gently on his thigh. "You okay over there partner?"

Shaking his head as if he was coming out of a dream, Deeks momentarily looked a little sad but his goofy smile quickly returned. "Yeah Fern, I'm good."

Kensi saw immediately that his smile didn't reach his eyes and she knew that when that happened, something serious was going on inside that shaggy head of his. Her mind thought back to all that had happened in such a short space of time since that walked into the mission that morning: Hetty, Granger, gangs, a ninja, exploding vans ... it had been a long day and it was just early afternoon.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're thinking about or do I have to get violent?"

His smile got bigger and did actually make it to his eyes this time. Kensi was pleased that she could make him feel lighter considering the day they were having. _Whoa ... where did caring about how her partner feels come from? Great, just great, their 'thing' again._

"Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" He looked aver at her and the sweet tenderness she saw in his eyes made her turn away quickly before she got lost in his pacific blues. He apparently took no offense as he continued. "Just thinking about those poor guys back there ... they had no idea that when they woke up this morning, that today would be their last day on earth."

It had bothered Kensi too, she had just been too afraid to bring the sensitive subject up. Ever since that night in the boatshed when she had asked ... no, pleaded with Deeks to promise no to get himself killed, she had avoided talking about the dangers they faced everyday. Now, he was the one bringing it up and she had no idea how to change the subject. When he got like this, no matter how she tried to deflect away from the touchy subject, Deeks always managed to drag her right back into something she really didn't like discussing.

Before she could think of a segway that he would fall for, he beat her to the punch. "I just don't want to go out with regrets, you know?" Deeks mind went immediately to _sunshine and gunpowder ... sunshine and gunpowder. But she's right there, breathing and alive and absolutely stunning. _The mere thought of a world without Kensi Marie Blye in it made his heart ache and his stomach rollover. "Things that I didn't do, places I didn't visit," and then he paused and looked directly at her. "Things I didn't say."

Kensi almost wrecked the vehicle at that. _Think fast Blye, he's getting serious. _"As much as you talk, I would have thought you had said it all by now."

_There's those communications skills she's so good at. So, that's how she wants to play it ... okay Fern, game on. _"Aw come on Kens, aren't you glad that you reconnected with your mom? Isn't that a lot better than leaving this world without getting to say all the things you wanted to say to her?"

Kensi thought for a moment before responding. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I am glad I got to work things out with my mom. By the way, I don't think I ever really thanked you for watching out for her."

"It was a real pleasure looking out for Julia."

"Easy there, big guy."

Deeks had to grin to himself. "Not what I meant and you know it Fern, stop trying to change the subject."

Now she really didn't know what to say. Several ideas did flick through her head at that moment though ... hit him, punch him, poke him, elbow him. Unfortunately, they all involved her touching him, and right now, she knew that wasn't a great idea. She had recently discovered that when they touched, whether she was inflicting pain on him or just giving him a playful shove, she didn't want the contact to stop. He was in a serious mood and the wrong action could lead them into areas she wasn't ready to explore, not yet.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kensi kept her focus on the road, looking into his eyes would probably move her into DEFCON 3 status. "I just wanted to tell you I appreciate what you did for me ... I mean her ... I mean us." He couldn't hide the grin no more than she could hide the exasperated sigh that escaped her lips.

"That's what I do sugarbear, I'll always have your back ... _always_." The sincere way he said it touched her to her core and she felt the same butterflies start swirling around in her stomach. She knew he ment every word of his promise that night in the boatshed and she knew he ment it now. He would always be there for her ... no questions asked, no matter what.

There wasn't anything she could think to say other than a standard polite response. "Thanks Deeks."

He smiled warmly and then turned his head to look back out the window and watched the streets of L.A. roll by, crammed with the afternoon traffic and the heat waves that bounced off the pavement. The only sound in the car was the steady thump of the techno that poured out of the speakers.

"Davis and Bradley."

Kensi didn't quite catch exactly what her partner had said. "What was that?"

Deeks didn't turn away from the window when he spoke softly to her. "Those were their names ... Officers Bradley and Davis."

How he had remembered the names of the two corrections officers who he had just met that morning sort of surprised her, but then she remembered that was always his way. Deeks was always making sure he called people by their names. He would read their name tags or ask them if he had to and then he would remember them days, even weeks later if he saw them again. He had told her it made people feel better to be acknowledged in that way, instead of just overlooked. Kensi had at first thought he only did that with the cute waitresses or yoga bunnies that flirted with him, but she soon realized he did that with everyone he met, and it had touched her how sweet it really was.

"They didn't deserve what happened to them."

"No they didn't Deeks." The image of the van exploding just yards in front of her caused Kensi's anger at the senseless killings begin to boil inside of her. "We need to nail the bastards that are doing this before anyone else gets hurt."

"I'm with you on that partner." Deeks tried to sound confident, but he knew that they were at a serious disadvantage and things would more than likely get a lot worse before they got better. Sitting right next to him, Kensi pretty much felt the same way.

Seeing the uncertain look that fell on her partner's face, Kensi let her guard down and bumped his elbow with her own. "Hey." When he turned his pacific-blue eyes to meet her mismatched orbs, she couldn't hold back the silly grin that formed on her face. "How about some lunch ... you pick ... I'll buy."

Looking more like a kid on Christmas morning than a full-grown man, Deeks' face almost split in two. "Why Fern, I'm touched."

"Just tell me what you want for lunch, _touched._"

"The guys were talking about the fish tacos I got last week, that place is just around the corner on Second Avenue."

Kensi turned on her blinker, which surprised Deeks and all the other vehicles around her, and eased into the right-hand lane. The fish tacos had been rather good, even though when Deeks had asked if she liked them, she had responded with "They're at least edible, unlike those organic based peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that would choke a maggot." She had hidden how much she liked the tacos behind a stoic expression and he hadn't seen her when she stole part of Callen's off his desk and gobbled it up too. Kensi felt her stomach rumble as she thought about eating the delicious creations again, she just hoped her partner hadn't heard it too.

Deeks heard his partner's stomach make a rather loud _feed-me-something-now! _sound, but his snide comment was cut off when his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He put the phone up to his ear. 'Deeks." A second later, he looked in her direction and confirmed out loud who was on the other end of the call. "Hey Eric, any news?"

Kensi focused on driving as she heard him 'mmmm' and 'yeah' his way through the conversation. _And men say we are hard to understand? Geez. _As she was making the right-hand turn onto Second, she heard him end the call. "Thanks Eric, we head there right after we pick up lunch."

"Sam and Callen found a surviving member of the Apple Dumpling Gang and are taking him to the boatshed to see what he knows about the Semtex and Hector. Granger and Hetty should be back in L.A. within the hour and Nell says to pick her up some of that shrimp curry she likes."

Kensi looked over at him. "Maybe we just caught a break there, partner."

"I hope so, but I've got a sinking feeling that this is going to get worse before it gets any better."

She couldn't refute his statement, these hit-men seemed to be one step ahead of them already and in their job, that could end very badly for them. "You may be right, Deeks." She looked out her window again. "You may be right."

As the Kensi's silver SRX sped down Second Avenue to Cedric's Fish and Chip's, it passed a small storefront that displayed a large neon sign that read 'Big Wally's World of Electronics'. On the locked door, there was one of those little signs that looked like a small clock. The big hand was on the twelve and the little hand was on the one with the words "Be Back At ..." stenciled across the top. Wally had walked down to the corner were he was now consuming a foot-long chili dog that had everything on it. But while his store was locked and there were no employees inside, it wasn't empty.

The man who had the appearance of someone who had lived on the streets over the last few weeks was currently sitting at Big Wally's computer, typing away at the keyboard. No one had paid any attention to the homeless man as he had staggered his way down the back alley where they also paid no notice as he gained access through the back door and defeated the rather expensive security system in all of fifteen seconds. Jordan Styles had tracked the burn phone recovered from Manuel Rivera's back pocket to Wally's store where it was purchased. Now he was hacking into the store's sales records where he had just discovered that at the moment the phone had been purchased, one exactly like it had also been bought at precisely the same time by the same person. They were paid for in cash and the name given by the purchaser was an obvious fake, but Jordan was there for another reason.

As he pulled up the phone identification information, an icon in the top left informed Jordan that the other phone was still active. That surprised the contractor, usually burn phones were dumped as soon as they were used, so this was unusual. This was the break Jordan was hoping for.

Typing a series of keys, he hacked into the phone settings and pulled up its assigned number. A few keystrokes more and now the burn phone that he had purchased earlier from another store had the same number as the one currently sitting in Hector De la Vega's front coat pocket. Neither of the burn phones had been equipped with G.P.S., that would have been way too easy, so Jordan had to come up with something else to help him locate the Columbian. When Hector's phone rang from now on, so would Jordan's. He had silenced the mike on his phone so he could answer when it was called but without any chance of any ambient background noise coming through. It was kind of a sneaky conference call but it had worked for him in the past and maybe it would this time as well.

Jordan closed out the file window, but another icon caught his attention, it was the photo taken of the purchaser by one of Wally's many security cameras. Eight keystrokes latter and Hector 'The Blood of Bogota's' picture forwarded to Jordan's ipad and phone. It wasn't like he would forget the face: dark wavy hair, chiseled cheekbones, flawless skin tone, and deep brown eyes, all the markings of a male model, not a vicious killer, but sometimes even someone with a photographic memory needed a hard copy.

Moving silently and methodically, Jordan quickly erased his presence from Wally's store and computer, knowing the game had just become a lot more interesting. The board was set and the game pieces were moving, he just prayed he was still a step or two ahead of the other players. Failure in this operation was not an option and Jordan would sacrifice almost anything for a successful outcome.

He moved to the back of the store and eased out into the back alley moments before Wally's security system reactivated. Walking to the end of the alley and making a turn to the right, Jordan pulled up Hector's picture on his phone. As he looked at the handsome Latino man displayed on the screen, he smiled as one word popped quickly into his head.

_Gotcha._

_..._

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**I promise that the action will pick up soon ... it just took longer to get here than I thought it would. Thanks for those of you who have hung around this long and for all of you who have followed/favorite my story ... that means more than I care to try and express. **

**Again, review ... critique ... correct ... whatever ... at least you're reading it!**

**Always Faithful!**

**JS**


	8. Encounter

**A/N: Hey guys! I hope there are some of you out there still reading this. I thought I was going to stop with the story when the number of reviews started to dwindle but I have it all in my head and need to get it out. So, if you're just reading for the heck of it and don't want to review, that's cool ... I'm glad you're enjoying it. If you're reading and something doesn't sit right with you, let me know ... I'll change it if I can and try to do better the next time. If you really like this story or even if you don't, please send a short review just to let me know how you feel about it or how I could do better.**

**And to all of you who have reviewed: Thanks a million! You guys are the greatest! Your encouragement means a lot to me and I do appreciate all of your compliments and critiques. **

**This next chapter has been giving me fits! I've had a hard time setting up the team's first real meeting with Hector and how to make it believable and not have it sound cheesy or like it was taken from another story or t.v. episode. I hope it works!**

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* * *

**Encounter**

Sam looked over the large table that sat in the middle of the boatshed at his partner sitting directly opposite him. "Do you think he can pull it off G.?"

Callen glanced over at the plasma screen that projected a view of the interrogation room where a very agitated Juan Zappula fidgeted in the metal chair he occupied. Over the past hour and a half, Callen and Sam had laid out the evidence against the young man and how long he could spend in prison if they brought charges against him. They had also presented a plan to the young man; a plan that, if successful, would get a dangerous bomber off the streets but also get the charges against the terrified young man reduced.

Sam and Callen had played the perfect "good cop-bad cop", until Juan's youthful stubbornness became too much and they reverted to their patented "bad cop - nightmare cop". Sam had actually thought the young man was going to wet himself during their little chat about what would happen if they charged him with aiding a known international terrorist and where Juan would end up if he didn't co-operate. The thought of spending the rest of his life locked up in Guantanamo Bay Cuba had broken the young man's resolve and he agreed to Callen's plan.

Juan had only asked that the agents protect his mother, with the deaths of all of his closest friends, she was all he had left. He hadn't cared much about making a deal, he knew he had messed up and was willing to take the consequences for his actions. This had impressed both men and they had agreed that they would do all in their power to protect her but they reminded Juan that the best way to do that was for him to help them put Hector away.

Kensi and Deeks walked back into the room, the brunette laughing and shaking her head at something her partner had just done or said. The older agents glanced up at them, Sam grinning at how relaxed Kensi seemed to be lately, he knew it was in no small part because of the scruffy detective following her into the room.

"So what did Shaggy do this time?"

Kensi just shook her head, sending her ponytail flopping across her shoulders. "Sam, you really don't want to know ... I mean _really, _you don't."

"All I did was tell her that the kid was wrong, the Hulk would definitely win against Iron Man."

Callen raised his eyebrows. "What kid?"

Deeks leaned against the edge of the table as Kensi plopped down in the chair right beside him. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands and let out a soft groan. "There was kid in line at Cedric's when we picked up lunch and he was wearing an Iron Man t-shirt. Brainiac over here asked the boy if there was anyone that could beat the hero on his shirt. When the boy said that no one could, Deeks reverted back to elementary school and went into this big tirade about how the Hulk would pulverize Tony Stark."

"That's not what I said, I told him that the Hulk would crush Iron Man's suit like a soda can."

Kensi looked up at Deeks, her expression one of complete exasperation. "What are you ... twelve?"

The blonde just shot her his famous crooked grin. "When I was twelve, my hero was Spiderman, now I like the Hulk and sweetheart, nobody beats the Hulk ... _nobody_."

Kensi turned to look back over at Callen and Sam. "So when we took the trash from lunch out to the recycling bin, macho man here picked up an aluminum can, crushed it with his hand, and when he threw it into the collection drum, danced around with his hands up in the air shouting 'Hulk beats Iron Man ... Hulk beats Iron Man!'. I wanted to shoot him on the spot."

Deeks shot her a consoling look. "Aw, Kens, I thought you liked to watch me dance."

Speaking so softly that the older agents couldn't really hear what she was saying, Kensi looked up at Deeks, a playful and dangerous look in her eyes. "Well, there is that dance I've already paid you for but never received. Maybe you prefer a different kind of audience than women, maybe you'd like a more, ahem, _male _group."

Fear flushed through Deeks' mind at his partner's implications about his brief but lucrative career as an exotic dancer all those years ago. He looked down at her, pleading with his eyes and his voice was barely a whisper. "_Kens_, you promised."

"What did you promise Kensi?" Callen was closer to them than Sam and only caught part of the conversation, mainly the words 'dance', 'paid', and 'male'. But when those words processed in his brain, Callen realized maybe he didn't really want to know what exactly that meant. "Wait, never mind, I don't want to know."

Deciding to let him off the hook, Kensi just shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing Callen, just trying to get Deeks to act his age, not his shoe size."

"But Kensalina, you know the old saying about a man with big feet ..."

"Deeks, I swear, if you finish that statement, you won't ever have to worry about how big your _feet_ are again ... _ever_."

Sam shook his head, smiling as a frightened look washed over the blonde detective and decided to cut the younger man some slack. "Hey Deeks, the fish tacos were great, thanks."

Taking Sam's save for what it was, Deeks nodded in response. "Best in town, says so right there on their sign." The cute smile on his face caused Kensi to regret sitting so close to him. A brief flashback to her "Best Day Ever" and the discovery of her partner's colorful dancing history caused a pink tint to flash across her cheeks, she just hoped he didn't notice. She could smell the salt from the ocean and the particular board wax he was adamant about using and she knew she had to get her mind back in the game.

Looking a little flushed, Kensi moved back into agent mode. "So, how is our guest doing? Is he given us anything useful?"

Callen looked back at the screen, seeing that Juan's twitching movements had stopped in the last few minutes, he just stared at the surface of the table as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "He agreed to contact Hector about the Semtex as long as we take care of his mom. We were waiting for you guys to get back before we started nailing out the details."

Deeks was already bringing his phone to his ear. "I'll send a patrol car over to Ms. Zappula's residence to keep an eye on her until this is over."

As the detective talked quietly on his phone, Kensi's eyes flicked between Callen and Sam. "So, how are we going to play this guys.?"

The senior agent pointed at the image of Juan on the screen. "The plan is pretty simple: Juan contacts Hector and agrees to deliver the remaining Semtex to him. If Hector agrees, we'll have to set up in a park or other public space. Hector should understand Juan's insistence on the meeting happening with witnesses around considering what happened to the rest of the gang. The four of us will be there in overwatch with a tactical team and bomb squad as backup in case Hector gets jumpy or tries to blow something else up. There will be a sniper team covering us as well. We'll try to have as much control over the area as possible but we can't take a chance on Hector getting nervous and demanding another meeting place."

Deeks had finished his phone conversation about half-way through the plan's layout. "So, what am I doing?"

Sam had a huge grin on his face. "You won't have to do much Shaggy, just be yourself."

The smirk on the S.E.A.L.'s face caused Deeks stomach to fall. "Aw great, I get to play the homeless bum again ... right?"

"But you do it so well. I think you missed your true calling."

Kensi just rolled her eyes at how her partner's face reveled his dislike of that cover and Deeks just tried to act unaffected. "You're just jealous that you can't pull it off, big guy."

"Let's see: ragged clothes, scruffy appearance, funky hair ... "

Kensi jumped in as well. "No bathing, horrible B.O., and don't forget the flies."

"Thanks for the support there partner. And what will the fair _princess _be doing while I'm laying on the hot concrete communing with nature?"

Callen nodded in Kensi's direction. "She'll be posing as an office worker on her break ... eating or reading a book maybe. Sam and I will be maintenance workers of some type, we'll have to wait until the meeting location is confirmed before we are sure."

"Sounds good." Kensi and Deeks nodded together and spoke in perfect unison in their usual way but it still freaked Callen out a little bit.

The team leader's expression turned serious as he stood from the table. "Guys, we have to get Hector off the streets, no matter what. There probably be civilians in the area and we have to maintain control of the scene so keep your eyes on ears on the target."

Sam, Deeks, and Kensi all nodded their acknowledgement. They realized just how important this little operation was; they needed to capture the bomber and maybe then they could figure out why Hetty had been targeted. Too many had already died because of this mess, and it needed to end as soon as possible.

* * *

Hector placed the phone on to the glass-topped table that sat just outside his suite's bedroom. The burn phone made a soft clatter as it slipped from the tips of his fingers and he peered around the corner into the bedroom. The suite's other occupant didn't move from her resting place on the luxurious bed as she continued to sleep soundly. Their earlier physical activities had left her rather exhausted and the cocaine running through her veins allowed her to rest peacefully. The bruises they covered certain parts of her naked body revealed just how _physical _their activities had been. She was young and energetic and her high price, while outrageous, had been worth every penny. Hector had paid for her services for seventy-two hours and he still had plenty of time on the clock and plenty of cocaine in his bag.

Smiling to himself, Hector walked over to where his clothes were hanging. He dressed quickly and quietly, knowing that if his companion awoke, she would ask questions that she shouldn't be asking and he didn't want any more complications to this assignment. The amount of coke in her system ensured that she would be out for at least another four or five hours, and when he got back, they could resume his rather demanding ... _pleasures_.

Standing in front of the full length mirror, Hector adjusted his silk tie and planned his next move. The phone call from the kid, Juan, had caught him a little bit off guard. Yes, he needed the Semtex to be confident he had more than enough to deal with the Lange woman and any of her team that got in his way, but he also needed to tie up any loose ends, and Juan was one. This is where things got tricky though.

Hector was sure the kid was in police custody or at least, in contact with them. He just had a 'gut' feeling and he always trusted his gut, it had saved him more times than he could count. It also helped that he didn't trust anyone and always thought that everything was a trap, no matter who promised what. Juan had been just a little too adamant that he hadn't been to the cops. _Nice try. _Just because Juan hadn't gone to the police, didn't mean the police hadn't come to him, it was all in how you said the words. And Hector knew when someone was lying to him, he had tortured enough people to death to know when they were just saying what he wanted to hear or really telling the honest truth. There had been a slight hesitation in Juan's voice, a touch of uncertainty and Hector knew not to take any chances.

As he slipped his Egyptian cotton jacket on over his tailored shirt, the dark Columbian reached for his phone. He dialed his contact in the LAPD and after a few rings a young but gruff voice answered.

"Evidence Room, Sgt. Kent speaking."

"I need something else from you sergeant." Hector's voice was as smooth as silk and yet, cold as ice.

Sgt. First Class George Kent felt his stomach fall to the floor and he broke out in a cold sweat as he glanced around the evidence room, thankfully there was no one within earshot. When he spoke, his voice quavered. "I thought our business was completed last night?"

"My friend, our business is concluded when _I _say it is, not before, understand?" Hector knew that the man on the other end of the line would do anything he asked if he wanted his little secret to stay that way ... a secret. Kent had a rather strong cocaine habit and he had been shaking down some of the cartel's local dealers for a little extra off the book. When the cartel enforcer that was dispatched to 'deal' with the sergeant had trailed Kent to one of the seedier sides of LA, another dark part of Kent was found; he liked teenaged girls and the younger the better. So instead of giving him the traditional Columbian necktie, the enforcer had photographed and blackmailed Kent into providing information to the cartel from within the police department. His position was one of the main reasons that the cartel could survive in the City of Angels; he provided info on stings, undercover operations, and raids in order to keep the coke coming and his other activities away from everyone, especially his wife and family.

Kent lowered his head, knowing that this day just got a little longer. "What do you want?"

"I just need a little information on a Juan Zappula."

Looking around the room once more, Kent saw that the other officer assigned to the evidence locker was busy flirting with the new blonde secretary. The gravitational pull of her chest had the poor man completely mesmerized for the moment so Kent quickly sat down at the computer and entered his password to access the main database. A few moments later, Kent had pulled up the arrest record of one Zappula, Juan R. "What do you want to know?"

A look of pure malevolence spread across Hector's handsome features as he made his demand.

"His mother's home address."

* * *

Los Angeles' MacArthur Park sprawled on each side of Whilshire Boulevard, between South Park View and South Alvarado and for late afternoon, it wasn't all that busy. There was a large group of college students engaged in a come-one-come-all game of ultimate frisbee on the athletic field just north of the lake and there were a few school buses lined up along Whilshire, picking up the days field trip groups. The usual visitors were there as well; small families strolling along the lake side, watching the swans frolic in the cool water, young lovers walking hand-in-hand under the statuesque palm trees, grandfathers being led by their grandchildren to the swings for 'just one more'.

The sidewalks that ran throughout the park had stone colored concrete benches and tables dotted along their edges, some occupied by no more than a few pigeons or a person or two. Along these winding concrete walkways, two park employees, in their orange safety vest and blue work coveralls, made their way to another of the waste disposal cans that sat under a tall palm tree. One of the men pushed a wheeled gray collection drum in front of him, the can's outside wrapped in a yellow skirt that held various cleaning bottles, rags, and equipment. The larger worker beside him carried a heavy-duty street broom over his left shoulder and a rather displeased look on his face.

"You know G., Deeks is never going to let us live this down." Sam felt the sweat as it trickled down his spine and he had the urge to snap the broom's handle over the head of one rather amused detective's head.

"Aw come on Sam, you guys are working those blue coveralls and your little vests." Deeks' chuckle sounded across the teams' comms and even Nell had to stifle a small giggle as she and Eric monitored from ops.

Callen stopped beside another waste receptacle and began to pull out the liner and its contents. "At least we don't smell like the bottom of this can."

"Ouch." Kensi smiled from where she was sitting not twenty yards away at one of the parks picnic tables. She had a rather thick book open in front of her, a leather briefcase near her right thigh on the bench. The false glasses she was wearing slipped further down her nose and she took a moment to look around her as she tipped them back into place. She was on overwatch and she was grateful the number of civilians in the area was beginning to diminish.

From his place under one of the lone park benches, Deeks surveyed the area to his right, taking in Kensi as she sat alone at her table. "I don't know about you Fern, but for some reason, I feel like a verse or two of something by the Village People."

Sam flexed his pectoral muscles and the wooden handle of the broom creaked under the strain. "Deeks, if you even hum one bar of a song, even Monty won't recognize you when I'm done."

"You guys really know how to make a fella feel loved."

Kensi lowered her eyes back to the book she wasn't really reading. "Come on Deeks, they wouldn't give you such a hard time if they didn't love you."

Callen and Sam's responses overlapped each other over the comm system. "Hey ... whoaa ... that's too much Kensi!"

Deeks was the only one who could hear his partner's soft chuckle. "Thanks partner, I knew you had my back."

The softness of his tone caused Kensi to look over in his direction for a moment. "Your back is not so bad, we just need to do something about the front."

'Deeks laughed softly to himself. "Touche' Fern, touche'."

Hetty's small but firm voice interrupted the teams antics. She knew they were just passing the minutes but the time for the exchange was close at hand and they needed to be on top of their game. "Agents and detective, while I can appreciate the need for jocularity in a time such as this, maybe now we should focus our attention to the situation at hand."

Silence came over the audio speakers as each team member adjusted his or her position and double checked their area of responsibility. Sam and Callen were circling the perimeter, Deeks was about twenty-five yards off to Juan's right and Kensi was on a small rise overlooking the picnic area. There were a few security cameras nearby and Eric had the operations center tapped in to all of the area security and highway cameras. Hetty could see the entire area of the park where her team was deployed as well as view from the small button camera on the front Juan's shirt. "Mr. Zappula, how are you holding up?"

Juan's eyes flicked nervously from the backpack between his feet to around the park, looking at everyone that came near the bench he was sitting on. "I'm good," he lied.

Callen finished tying off the trash can liner and replaced it with another one. "Juan, just take a deep breath, this will all be over in a few minutes. We've got you covered and Hector won't do anything too stupid with so many people around." Callen hoped Juan didn't detect how worried he was that maybe Hector wouldn't be deterred by al the witnesses around them. They would have to be fast and careful if this was to go down without a hitch.

Deeks knew what the young man was feeling and tried to reassure him as well. "Hey Juan, can you think of something that makes you happy?"

"Yes sir, I guess so."

"Now concentrate on it until it is all that you see in your head, focus on it only, okay?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind telling me what it is?" Deeks was trying to get him to think about anything but what was about to happen. If Juan was too nervous, the op would be over before it began.

Juan swallowed hard and felt his fear dissipate a little bit. "My mom."

"That's cool man, just keep thinking about her and this will all soon be over." Deeks just hoped he wasn't lying. "Feel any better?"

"Yes sir." Juan remembered how he had left his mother alone at her house after spending the night caring for her. At that moment, he promised himself that if he got out of this mess, no more gangs, no more guns, no more drugs. He would finally start living his life in a way that would make his mother proud. "Hey detective?"

Deeks' surfer drawl came easily over the channel. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"No problem kiddo. Don't fret, you got the best federal agents in the world watching your back."

Kensi listened as her partner successfully got the young man to focus and calm down. She was amazed at how Deeks was able to take the most stressful situation and bring serenity to those going through it. This time, she just couldn't let him leave himself out of their team as he usually did.

"And one hell of a LAPD detective too."

Deeks was a little surprised at Kensi's statement, she usually joined in when Sam or Callen were insulting him because of his lack of agent status. He knew she couldn't see the smile plastered on his face when he spoke, but he turned to look in her direction anyway.

"I knew you loved me Fern."

"Deeks, I can still shoot you from here."

Assistant Director Owen Granger pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt his blood pressure begin to rise. _And this is Hetty's 'A-team'? Good grief. _"Ahem ... people, could we please focus on the task at hand? This is kind of important."

Callen felt his shoulders tense and he quickly took a deep breath. "Yeah, we kinda had that part figured out."

"Agent Callen, I have given you the lead on this situation. Please don't make me regret that decision."

Deeks rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the concrete that had been his resting spot for the last hour and a half. "The only thing you should regret is that aftershave you had on during the briefing. Where did you get that stuff, Harry's Gas n' Gulp?"

The chorus of snickers and giggles that flooded the communication system caused Hetty to stifle a small chuckle and Granger's cheeks to flush red. "Detective Deeks, when this is all over, you and I need to have a little conference about insubordination."

Deeks didn't even hesitate. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Assistant Director."

Granger turned to glare at Hetty, the look on his face said that his conference with the LAPD detective might turn into an execution, her eyebrows raised in defiance to his mood. "Ah come on Owen, you have to admit, that stuff was worse than the cologne you wore in that hovel in Kiev." She stared him down and he finally turned back to the plasma screen, a slight grin on his face.

Kensi had a huge smile on her face at her partner's antics when she detected movement off to her left. "I got a tango moving into the perimeter."

Callen and Sam were still making their rounds taking care of the trash containers. "What you got Kensi?" The senior agent was still pushing his rolling trash can, but he and Sam began to veer in Kensi's direction.

As smooth as a cat, Kensi turned her head in the direction of the movement, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The person she had detected was carrying a large sketch pad and a set of pencils and brushes in his hands as he moved along the path around the lake. He was one of the many artists and performers that occupied the park during the day, making a few dollars here and there. A young woman was over at the playground making balloon animals for the little kids ... at ten dollars a pop. "Negative. It's not Hector, just one of the local artists."

Kensi turned back to her book and the rest of the team relaxed for the moment, knowing it could all fall apart very quickly. Callen glanced down at his watch, noting that the time of the exchange was approaching fast. "Everybody keep your eyes open, it's almost time." A series of affirmative answers repeated in his ear bud as the rest of the team reacted.

Juan continued to focus on his mother and all the changes he would have to make in his life in order to hopefully get on a better course. Deeks was right, thinking about something good in his life made his nerves calmer and the danger a little less scary. Even though they had been strangers earlier that day, he felt confident that these people would do all they could to protect him and his mother. He aimlessly tapped the side of his foot against the pack that held the remaining sticks of Semtex. Callen had reluctantly allowed the real sticks to be brought, suspecting that Hector may check to see if they were real and not wanting to take any more chances.

"What do they put in concrete that makes it so freaking hard?" Deeks moaned to no one in particular.

No one commented, what was the point really, they were used to his endless comments. Kensi flipped the page to her book and had to catch herself when a shadow fell across her.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Startled, she looked up and found that the street artist she had noted earlier was standing just a few feet to her right. "Yes, can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you would like for me to do a sketch of you?"

How he had crept up on her without her knowing shocked Kensi but she knew she had to get rid of him quickly without making a scene before the time for the exchange arrived. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up into his face. He had a thin, scraggly beard and his hair hung down lose to his shoulders. His eyes were obscured by a pair of shaded glasses and he looked like he hadn't showered in a few days. His wasn't dressed as poorly as Deeks but she could see he was man going through a rough patch. Unfortunately, this would a bad time, despite how much she wanted to help him out. "I'm sorry, but I'm expecting someone. I really don't have time for it."

She watched as his face fell, disappointment clearly etched on his features. Hoping to hasten the man's departure but also to show a little compassion, Kensi grabbed her purse. "Look, thanks anyway but here, take this anyway." She held out a five dollar bill, hoping he would take it and that she hadn't insulted him.

The tall man gently shook his head shyly, gently rejecting her contribution but he seemed to be a little embarrassed. "Thank you very much, I appreciate it but ... uhh ... well ... "

"Is there something wrong?"

The man leaned back, afraid that he had scared her. "Oh no ma'am, it just that I kinda already sketched you while you were reading. I hope you don't mind." He pulled a piece of thick paper from his sketch pad and handed it over to the silent brunette.

Kensi's breath caught in her throat. It was a simple pencil drawing but it was stunning. He had caught her unaware when he drew her and she was still a little surprised at his ability to do that. She also realized he had drawn her from at least thirty yards away, that was the closest he had been until his approach. _He must have eyes like a hawk!_The picture captured her long dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders, her mismatched eyes looking down at her book, and the softness of her skin tone; she looked peaceful Kensi had never seen anything like it. "It's ... it's beautiful. Thank you, but I can't accept this."

Kensi looked up and tried to hand the sketch back to him, but he had already moved back a few steps.

"Please accept it as a gift and I hope I didn't scare you, but when I saw your eyes, the Nevus of Ota? I just had to sketch you." He turned a moved back toward the pathway, "I've only met one other woman with that particular birthmark." With a slight nod to her, he turned and moved further down the slight hill. "You have a nice day pretty lady."

Kensi wanted to stop him from just walking away but their current situation prevented her from saying anything. She watched him meander down toward the lake, speaking to passers-by, seeking another customer for his artwork. Looking once again at the paper in her hands, the way he had captured the lines and curves of her face simply astounded her. For a moment or two, she was lost in her thoughts until a familiar voice sounded in her ear.

"So, who's your boyfriend, Kensalina?"

Shaking her head to refocus, Kensi tucked the paper into her open briefcase. "No one Deeks, just a street artist who drew a sketch of me."

"Aww...Kensi has another admirer to add to the every growing list. So, who did he make you look like ... Margaret Thatcher of Henry Fonda?"

Picking up her book, Kensi blushed a little at the sweet gesture by the total stranger. "Neither knucklehead ... it's actually rather good."

Deeks started to respond, but before he could, he saw that the person they were waiting on had arrived. "Hector is approaching from the south-west ... and he's not alone."

Every team member's eyes locked on the well-dressed Columbian as he casually strolled along the edge of the lake. To everyone's amazement, he wasn't alone. A modestly dressed woman was walking arm-in-arm with him, and even though their bodies were close like they were a couple, her face lowered toward the ground, her features hidden behind long, black hair.

"Alpha team to Agent Callen, snipers are in position. Repeat, snipers are in position." The tactical team's commander's voice rang over the comm channel, but the command to shoot would have to come from Callen's team and none of them were about to give that order, not until they knew who the mystery woman was and what part she was playing.

"Callen to Alpha team, copy that, hold position. Does anybody have an i.d. for the woman who's with Hector? Eric ... Nell ... can you guys help us out? Who is she?" Callen had pushed his rolling can off to the side of the pathway, his body tensed at this new problem. A hostage situation had not been in the plans at all and he could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Back in operations, Nell and Eric were furiously typing on their keyboards, trying to find a camera angle that would show the woman's face. Nell tapped her comm pad. "She hasn't looked up at any of the cameras so we haven't captured an image yet. But give us a minute, we're working on it Callen."

Hetty and Granger both stepped up to the plasma screen, the danger to the team had just went up several notches with this new wrinkle. "Everyone maintain your current position. We don't know what this means, sniper teams stand by."

Kensi watched as Hector passed within a few feet of Deeks but the bomber seemed to dismiss the homeless bum laying on the sidewalk with utter contempt and she slowly released the breath she didn't know she had been holding. Hector and the mystery woman walked in a straight line, directly toward Juan who was looking down at the concrete. When they were about twenty yards away, Hector tenderly sat the woman down on a bench that faced the one Juan was on. When Hector stepped back, she looked up.

The entire team heard Juan's anguished gasp as his fought the urge to run across the courtyard to the woman seated across from him.

Callen whispered softly but firmly into his mike. "Juan, what's wrong? Do you know who she is?"

Juan's response came out as a strangled sob. "Yes ... that's ... that's my mother."

Deeks felt his stomach twist into knots at the revelation that now Juan's mom had been drug into this mess. "Stay calm buddy, stay focused. We'll get you both out of this, just hang tight."

Before any one else could speak, Hector approached Juan and sat down so close beside him, they were almost touching. "So, my young friend, how are you doing this beautidul evening?"

Juan didn't reply, he just stared across at his mother, who had locked her eyes on her son. The look on her face was one of total terror but other than that, she appeared unharmed. Hector reached into his pocket with his right hand and pulled out a small device.

"Since you seem are hesitant to be polite, let me begin: Do you know what a micro-burst transmitter is?"

Juan continued to stare straight ahead, barely breathing.

"No? Well, I happen to have one right here in my hand and if I press this little red button on top, it sends a signal to a receiver. Now that receiver can be connected to any number of devices: a car's ignition switch, a door-bell," Hector turned his soul-less gaze over to Juan's mother. "or even an electric blasting cap, like the one attached to the loop of Detonation cord wrapped around her neck."

Everything around Juan seemed to freeze in place and his world compressed into a sliver of light that went straight to where his mother was sitting.

"I explained all this to your mother while we were on our way here. You have to hand it to the LAPD; they parked right outside her house and didn't bother to knock on the door or check on her. I snuck her out the back while the boys in blue checked out a couple of red-hot senoritas down the street."

Deeks swore under his breath that he would personally find the officers responsible for that breach of protocol and see to it they would remember better the next time. Kensi, knowing exactly what her partner was thinking, silently promised to back him up when he did.

"You see, Juan, I know you went to the police or they came to you. Let's just call it a 'gut' feeling and the fact you insisted on a public meeting place ... standard operating procedure and you were just a little too eager to give up the Semtex for free. So let's just cut through all the deception and tell me where they are? They are close but not close enough, and I also know they can't stop me. If your mother runs, I press the button. If I don't like the answers you give me? Well, you won't have to worry about her getting over that nasty flu she has."

Juan's blood turned to ice at the decision he was faced with ... the team that was desperately trying to help him ... or his mother.

Sensing the young man's conflict, Hector held the transmitter up so Juan could see it. "I've done this before my friend and I can assure you, that little string of DET cord will blow your mother's head completely off her shoulders ... and you will get to watch."

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as Juan looked helplessly over at his mother. She was sitting perfectly still on the park bench, her long dark hair blowing in the breeze, tears already streaming down her face. Juan glanced around the park and knew Hector was right, there was no way the agents could reach either of them before Hector carried out his threat.

Hanging his head in defeat, Juan finally spoke. "There are four agents and a tactical team: the pretty woman up the hill at the table, the two maintenance guys, and the homeless man over there under that bench. I don't know where the other team is, I haven't seen them."

Hector eyes had followed Juan's descriptions around the park. "The TAC team will be out of sight, but their snipers are watching. The woman and the two guys I can see, but the homeless man? Really? He's the last person I would have suspected. That's impressive."

Callen and Sam had stopped just outside the edge of the courtyard, waiting to see what Hector's next move was. Hetty had already notified the bomb squad and the tactical team to prepare to move on Callen's orders and Kensi and Deeks were just holdng their breath.

Deeks lay completely still, knowing that a single misstep could spell disaster, waiting for the next move in this crazy game. He discreetly scanned the area, watching as the park's other occupants went about their day as if a mad bomber wasn't threatening to end a woman's life in a most gruesome way. Suddenly, a familiar individual ambled into view.

"Uh, looks like Kensi's admirer is walking toward Juan's mother. From the east side guys."

Hector noticed the man also. "What about him? Is he a cop too?" His thumb hovered over the little red button.

Juan tired to assure the man beside him. "No, he came by earlier, drawing for some of the people."

"Are you sure? I'll know if you are lying to me ..."

"I swear mister, I've never seen him before!"

Hector's eyes bored into Juan's, looking for any deception. When he found none there, he relaxed his hand, moving his thumb away from the trigger. "Very well."

Kensi's eyes shot in the direction Deeks had mentioned and sure enough, the incredibly talented street artist was shuffling straight at Ms. Zappula. "Aw shit. Come on buddy, keep walking." But thirty yards away, as if he heard her, the man stopped right in front of Daniella Zappula and began to speak to her. When she didn't respond, he sat down on the end of the bench, just a foot or two away from her, his pad out and his pencil already drawing.

Hector watched with a rather amused expression onhis face. "Look Juan, the man is actually going to sketch your mom. How sweet, you'll have something to remember her by." A dark chuckle rumbled from Hector's throat.

"The artist will probably die in the blast though, that's a shame. Maybe the drawing will survive, because I can guarantee that it will not be an open casket funeral." And he laughed a little more at his own twisted joke.

Back at O.S.P., Owen Granger was beside himself with anger. "This sick bastard needs to be dead."

Hetty nodded in affirmation. "Indeed, but not at the cost of innocent lives. Agent Callen, we are running out of options here, you may need to get creative to resolve this."

Callen looked over at his partner with a 'duh' expression on his face as idea after idea popped into his head only to have them shot down when they all played out the same way ... the death of an innocent person. Sure, one the tactical team's snipers or one of his own could take out Hector, but his muscle twitch could still trigger the transmitter and Ms. Zappula would die just feet from her only child.

Unable to formulate a successful plan, Callen had to concede defeat, for the moment. "Everyone just hang tight, maybe Hector will give us an opportunity to make a move. Until then, nobody moves."

Hector sat back against the bench, like he was just sitting with a friend and talking about basketball. "Since I'm sure you are wearing a wire and that your new friends are listening, this is how this is going to play out agents." He reached down and retrieved the back pack, unzipped it enough to see the explosives inside before re-sealing it and slinging it over his shoulder. Juan and I are going to walk out of here unhindered and before you get any crazy ideas, the range on this little transmitter is pretty impressive. Even in the city, I should be able to get one and a half, maybe two miles out of it, so no games, no tails. If you leave me alone, I promise I won't kill the woman in front of her son."

Hector stood, pulling Juan up with him. "But if I even think I'm being followed and if anyone else moves toward Ms. Zappula, well ... then you can clean up the mess." He then began to walk toward South Alvarado Avenue where traffic was beginning to pick up.

Eric's panicked voice came over the radio. "If he makes it to the street, we'll have a hard time following him, the camera's on this side of town are sporadic at best."

_Think Callen, THINK! _None of the plans that popped into the senior agent's head ended any better than all the earlier ones and he was running out of time. Since their covers were blown, Sam and Callen moved to parallel Hector and Juan as they moved closer to the street. Kensi and Deeks stayed in their flanking positions near Juan's mother, hoping to have a chance of disarming the explosive wrapped around her neck.

When they reached the edge of the side-walk that ran down Alvarado, Hector stopped beside the silver BMW he had acquired from a hotel parking lot a few blocks away. He opened the passenger side door, but before Juan could enter, Hector stopped him.

"The fact that you are willing to give up your life to save your mother is impressive and I'm glad she has a son like you." The tone of Hector's words caused Juan's flesh to crawl and he looked back down the path where his mother was still sitting next to the disheveled street artist.

"But when I said I wouldn't kill her in front of you ... well, I lied."

Callen and Sam both broke into an open sprint toward Hector but they were still too far away. The snipers were relocating, trying to track Hector's new location but he was blocked by the large palm trees. Kensi and Deeks were just starting to move from their places but they were not close enough to Ms. Zappula to do any good.

Hector quickly raised his right hand, the one holding the detonator, and pressed the red button with his thumb.

All Juan Zappula could do was scream.

* * *

...

...

**I know ... I'm a cold heartless person for ending the chapter like that. You guys probably hate me after this and I am really sorry for doing this in the story but these are dark and dangerous people, and I never promised you a rose garden. **

**If you can see past the rage in your eyes, please post a review. If you hate me too much, I understand but there's an old saying about breaking eggs to make an omlet or something like that.**

**See ya in the next chapter ... I dare you.**

**No ... I ****_triple-dog_** **dare you.**

**Semper Fi**

**JS**


	9. Meetings

**A/N: Hey guys! I hope that some of you actually came back for more after the way the last chapter ended. I created Hector to be a monster, and based on the reviews ... it worked. **

**Now we just have to see what happens next. **

**Ready?**

**Here we go!**

* * *

From "Encounter" ...

_Callen and Sam both broke into an open sprint toward Hector but they were still too far away. The snipers were relocating, trying to track Hector's new location but he was blocked by the large palm trees. Kensi and Deeks were just starting to move from their places but they were not close enough to Ms. Zappula to do any good._

_Hector quickly raised his right hand, the one holding the detonator, and pressed the red button with his thumb._

_All Juan Zappula could do was scream._

_..._

_..._

_..._

**Meetings**

The sinister smile on Hector's face wavered and then faded all together as the expected 'BOOM!' didn't occur. He depressed the detonator again but the result was the same ... nothing. He quickly turned away from a hysterical Juan, and looked back toward the benches where they had left Ms. Zappula. She was still sitting in the some spot but the street artist was now standing directly in front of her and he was holding something in his hands. Hector couldn't really see from that distance what exactly the item was but he was pretty sure he knew.

Kensi and Deeks were closing on Ms. Zappula and they _could_ see what was dangling from the tall stranger's fingers. Somehow, as Hector was speaking to Juan, the stranger had, with lightening speed, twisted the cord wound around Ms. Zappula's throat and pulled the receiver from the blasting cap in one smooth motion. When Hector looked in his direction, the man held the cord up higher, a cool smirk on his lips.

Murderous rage filled Hector as his diabolical plan had been thwarted but he wasn't finished yet. When Juan realized what was happening, he sprinted back down the path toward his mother, calling out to her. Hector reached under his jacket and pulled out a short-barreled pistol, leveling it at the center of Juan's back. He squeezed the trigger with his index finger but just before the hammer fell, a series of shots rang out. Hector felt the wind from one or two bullets wiz past his head and he instinctively ducked, his own frantic shot going high over Juan's head.

"Federal Agents! Drop your weapon!"

When he spun in the direction of the incoming shots, Hector saw two very intense men dressed in blue coveralls and orange vests running over a small knoll directly at him. They each had pistols aimed at him and he saw the muzzle blasts before he heard the report of the shots. They were a good distance from him, so their accuracy was off, but they were closing.

Callen and Sam tried to make accurate shots, but it was rather difficult to do as they sprinted toward Hector's car. In their peripheral vision, they could see Juan moving away from the Columbian and were glad that he was smart enough to run. As they crested the small rise between them and Hector, they paused to squeeze off a few well-aimed shots.

As another series of bullets flew by him, these more accurate than the last, Hector felt a sledgehammer slam into his left thigh. The impact spun him around, slamming his back into the car. Without looking down, he knew he'd been hit but he had been shot before. So, gritting his teeth against the burning sensation traveling down his leg, Hector dropped himself through the open passenger door and pulled himself across to the driver's side. Placing the gun on the passenger seat, he flipped the transmitter over and turned the knob on the bottom, changing to another frequency.

Callen and Sam were now closing, their guns aimed directly at the back of the silver BMW. They were about thirty yards away when they saw Hector raise his right hand, the one holding the transmitter. Before they could register what it meant, Hector pressed the little button and the trashcan , not fifteen yards away from them, exploded in a huge fireball. The two agents were blown off their feet by the shock wave, skidding across the grass to their hands and knees.

Hector smiled to himself as he saw the fireball knock the agents to the ground and then thick smoke and flames obscured his view. He always had a backup plan and dropping the small pipe bomb into the garbage can when he had entered the park had paid off. By the time the two agents recovered, he would be gone. The BMW's engine roared to life and without even looking for an opening, Hector shot out into the late afternoon traffic.

* * *

Kensi and Deeks were just approaching the courtyard when they heard the gunshots from behind them. They instantly recognized the report of the government issued SIGs and made silent prayers that Sam and Callen were in control of the situation. But the blonde and brunette had their own issue to deal with, namely the tall man who had posed as a street artist who was now holding a short strand of DET cord and a blasting cap in his hands.

"Freeze! Federal Agents!"

As they quickly closed the space between them, their handguns gripped surely in their hands, they watched as the man pulled a small box off the cap and drop everything to the ground. He smiled up at them before turning and running off to the left, leaving a shocked Daniella Zappula sitting on the bench.

"Ah dude, come on!" Yelling over his shoulder, Deeks veered off in pursuit of the stranger. "Check on her Kensi, I've got him."

Kensi continued on toward Ms. Zappula as her partner took off after the fleeing man. She looked down at the small loop of cord and the discarded receiver as she knelt in front of the terrified woman who was muttering to herself in Spanish. Kensi asked if she had any injuries but the older woman was almost hysterical. So the agent ran her eyes up and down, checking for any obvious wounds and patting the woman's leg, trying to reassure her.

The sudden 'BOOM!' behind her caused Kensi's heart to thump in her chest. She spun around and saw the fireball rising to the sky.

"Callen ... Sam!" She yelled into the comm system.

Callen's choked voice immediately answered. "We're good ... Hector used a small explosive to cover his escape. He's mobile in a new model silver BMW headed south on Alvarado. Eric, keep your eyes open!"

The sound of running feet caused Kensi to spin around, her gun already coming up in the direction of a crying young man. Juan barely registered the weapon pointing at him as he slid to his knees beside his mother. The older woman sobbed as she threw her arms around her son's neck, almost squeezing the life out of him. Juan buried his face in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Kensi tucked her pistol into the back of her pants and moved away from the reunited mother and son. Several members of the tactical team were moving toward them, their faces grim and determined.

"Secure the explosives and get the bomb squad in here, they may need to sweep this end of the park!" Turning on her heels to follow after her partner, she called back over her shoulder. "And get the medical team in here to check on these two!"

Kensi didn't hear the team leader's acknowledgement, her mind was now focused on her partner's back as he continued his pursuit of the mysterious stranger. She stretched out her long legs, lengthening her stride, desperate to catch up to the other two. Being this far away from Deeks had her concerned, she didn't know who the man was or if he was dangerous or not, but she needed to have her partner's back ... no matter what. Letting Deeks down was not an option so she pumped her arms faster, trying to gain just a little more speed.

To her shock, Kensi watched as first the stranger then Deeks, disappeared from view as they rounded a corner of the granite block retaining wall that surrounded a small clump of trees. The direction they were traveling in led back toward Alvarado Street and she briefly wondered if that was what the stranger intended. Her lungs began to burn but Kensi just reached down deeper for a little more as she lowered her head, tying to cut out more wind resistance.

"Tac Team Alpha Two! Tac Team Alpha Two! We have a tango heading east toward Alvarado, move to intercept!"

Kensi barely heard the crackling response of the team's leader. "We're coming from the east, we'll be in position in a few seconds!"

Breaking out around the wall, Kensi felt her stomach knot up at the sight before her. Apparently the stranger had stopped and confronted Deeks, whose handgun lay on the ground at their feet as they struggled together. Deeks was a scraper but the stranger obviously had the upper hand. He had Deeks in a reverse arm bar and was just applying more pressure to the detective's already stretched shoulder.

When he saw Kensi approaching, her gun rising to chest height, he suddenly changed his body position, spinning the trapped Deeks right at her. The lanky surfer's body slammed right into Kensi's middle, knocking her off-balance and sending both of them and her gun sprawling to the ground. Kensi deftly bounced back to her feet, Deeks rolling off to the side, his arm still numb.

When she regained her footing, Kensi was surprised to see that the stranger had closed the distance and was right in front of her. She dropped into a off-guard stance, expecting the bigger man to use his larger body mass to bowl her over and she would use that against him. But with cobra-like speed, the man stepped off to her strong side, and easily deflected her round-house punch that would have smashed right into his face. He stepped across her front and instead of sending a punch into her exposed ribs or stomach, he let his arm slide under hers, hooking it under her upper arm and before she knew what happened, he flipped her over his hip and she landed with an 'ooofff' right on top of a very surprised Deeks. She rolled off of her partner, totally embarrassed that she had been easily bested by this man and that just made her really, really pissed.

"Who the hell is this guy ... Bruce Lee?" Deeks was still trying to catch his breath.

Kensi was jumping back up on to her feet, grabbing her gun on the way up. "I don't care who he is, he's getting away!" Then it registered what Deeks had said and she had seen those moves before when she watched that video earlier that morning. _It's him ... it's the ninja. _

"Come on Deeks! It's him!"

Deeks was gathering up his pistol from where it had fallen. "Him who?"

She was already in pursuit again by the time Deeks stood up and watched his fire-up partner take off in a sprint. "Your _Ninja_!" Kensi's eyes were locked on the stranger's back and she was shocked to see that he was pulling away from her. Now she was really getting fired up; first he beats up her partner, then her, and now he's running away from her? Totally unacceptable in her book.

Off to the stranger's right, the tactical team moved in. They closed on the running man, effectively blocking the direction he had headed and his speed began to slow. Kensi could hear the yells of "Get on the ground!" and "Show us your hands!" but she was stunned at what happened next. The first two agents that approached the man moved to tackle him but he deftly slipped beside them and they ended up tangled together. The other four moved up, their M4 rifles leveled at the man's chest and, for the first time, he seemed hesitant. It didn't last long. In a move that Kensi thought defied the limits of physics, the man flicked one of his long arms out, grabbed the barrel of one man's rifle, used it as leverage to flip him to the ground and then used the weapon as a club to systematically incapacitate the rest of the squad. When no one stood before him the man leapt over the sprawled men and took off once more toward Alvarado.

Hearing her partner's familiar footfalls behind her, Kensi applied just a little more energy as she sped around another curve in the path as the stranger barreled straight ahead into a group of trees and bushes thirty yards away. She didn't even slow down one bit until she neared the edge, Deeks moving up beside her. Just as they readied to breach the foliage, they heard a powerful motorcycle engine roar to life. The bushes parted and the stranger, now perched on a red Ducatti street bike, exploded at them.

Deeks and Kensi rolled to the side as the bike ran right between them, the man hunched down low over the fuel tank. They raised their weapons to shoot but saw that there were too many civilians in the area to get a clear shot as the bike tore out onto the street, falling in a few cars behind a speeding silver BMW. "Damn!" A frustrated Kensi screamed to no one in particular. She turned and walked with her partner back up the path as the tactical team was slowly pulling themselves off the ground.

Deeks helped one of the struggling men to his feet. "You guys okay?"

Several of the men nodded at Deeks, sheepish expressions on their faces. "I think we're good detective ... nothing broken or bleeding anyway. Who the hell was that guy?"

Kensi and Deeks shared a look of raised eyebrows and crooked frowns. She saw the familiar playful smirk appear on his scruffy face. "His name is Bruce."

Kensi couldn't help but smile at her partner's little joke as she reached up and tapped her earbud. "Callen ... Sam ... what's your location?"

The roaring sound of wind blowing was the first sound she heard before Callen's voice boomed in Kensi and Deeks' ears as he tried to speak above the noise. "We're in pursuit of Hector ... he's in a silver BMW heading south on Alvarado!"

Kensi brought her hand up to her ear. "Be advised ... you have a tango moving in your direction, he's driving a ..."

The squealing of tires, honking horns, and some choice words from Sam interrupted her. "A red Ducatti?"

"That's him."

"He just cut us off. It seems he's after Hector as well."

Kensi watched as Deeks helped the last man to his feet and as the team began to check each other's injuries, he came to walk beside her. They traveled back up the path in the direction they had come from as Callen gave some new orders. "Check on Juan and his mother then get some transportation and catch up with us."

"Copy that Callen, we'll be on your six as soon as possible." Kensi looked over at her battered partner who was slowly rotating his right shoulder, trying to get all the sensation back. "Callen, you guys be careful, I'm pretty sure the guy on the bike is Deeks' _Ninja_, he went through me and Deeks then took out a tactical team like they weren't even there."

As Sam drove his black Charger at an insane speed through the streets of L.A., he and Callen exchanged a concerned look at this new information. Sam concentrated on keeping the vehicle on the road. "Great ... this just keeps getting better and better."

"Traffic's thinnning up ahead guys. The silver BMW just made a left onto Pico Boulevard, it looks like he's trying to make it to the 110!" Nell relayed the information as Eric tracked the vehicles over the street cameras. "And there's a red Ducatti right behind him."

Eric scanned the large highway that appeared to be Hector's goal. "Rush hour is almost over, there's not a lot of traffic on the 110 ... if he makes it there ... "

Sam's frustrated voice jumped in. "We read you Eric, can you try to slow him down a little?"

Callen could almost hear the clacking of Eric's keyboard over the comm system. "Accessing the city's traffic-light control system now."

Eric rapidly began to punch over-ride commands, giving the traffic lights along Pico new orders. Along the street, green lights rapidly flashed yellow and then red as their timers suddenly sped up. Traffic began to drag to a halt and Hector's escape route to the highway vanished.

Looking ahead for any possible opening, Hector saw only one ... back in the opposite direction. Yanking up hard on the emergency brake handle, he cut the steering wheel hard over and the BMW spun sideways in the lane. Smoke poured from the protesting back tires as the vehicle slid around until the headlights were facing north. He punched the accelerator and the six cylinder three-hundred and six horsepower 3.0 turbo charged engine applied an immense 295 foot pounds of torque to the rear wheels and the silver car launched itself up the street.

The red Ducatti motorcycle raced down Pico, its driver flush against the fuel tank, his eye locked on his target. First, he saw the traffic lights suddenly jump out of sequence and then traffic started to slow ... then stop. Then the silver BMW just ahead of him suddenly spun around and changed direction, heading right back at him. Jordan Styles glanced to his right then left, knowing that the four hundred pound bike he was on would be no match against the thirty-eight hundred pound car hurtling toward him. He also knew that if he was taken out of the chase, he may miss his chance to deal with Hector. When the only option left open entered his mind, he softly cursed himself for not wearing his full riding gear. _Crap, this is going to hurt._

Jordan applied the rear brake first and leaned to his left, the bike's rear tire started to skid as its speed overwhelmed its disc brakes. The left side of the bike dropped and impacted the asphalt, sparks shooting out onto the road. Jordan yanked his leg up behind him and pushed off of the handle bars, letting the bike's own momentum carry it out from under him. He tucked his arms into his chest and let himself fall to the hard pavement, his body sliding across the rough surface. Lucky for him, the bike had slowed dramatically when it hit the ground so his slide wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Hector's intent of running his pursuer over, disappeared as he watched the bike rider drop his bike directly in the path his vehicle was on. The bike's rider had slid across the pavement and was trying to roll to his feet. Seeing an opportunity, Hector veered toward the man rolling on the street when the motorcycle slammed into the front left wheel of the car. The BMW's front end lifted into the air, the tire and wheel obliterated as the bike's metal ripped into the undercarriage of the larger vehicle. The steering wheel spun loosely in Hector's hands, the steering column snapped off where it engaged the control arms.

With the vehicle uncontrollable, Hector held on and tried to apply the brakes which were not functioning properly, their systems damaged as well. The silver car veered violently into the south lanes of Pico Boulevard, other vehicles scrambling to get out of the way, horns blaring in anger. The car's speed carried it over to the curb where the impact with a large palm tree triggered the dual airbag system, slapping Hector's head backwards. Steam poured out from under the hood as the engine coughed, wheezed, and then died all together.

Jordan's slide across the pavement had blessedly ended before any major damage was done to his body, a few bruises and maybe a scrape or two, but he was surprisingly okay. He rolled to his feet, immediately focusing on the wrecked BMW just a few yards away. _Ow ... Crap! Maybe my left leg isn't as good as I'd hoped! _He looked down and saw the left leg of his jeans was ripped and a large splash of blood stained the remaining fabric. _Great! My favorite jeans! _He didn't have long to ponder the fate of his pants for the sound of grinding metal caught his attention.

When Jordan looked over he saw that Hector had forced the driver's door open and was struggling to run away down the sidewalk. Grimacing at his first step, Jordan swallowed the pain and slowly ran after the escaping bomber.

Hector's left leg was still bleeding and burning with pain from his gunshot wound but he was still able to move pretty well as he weaved through the pedestrians gaping at the bleeding man staggering down the sidewalk. The murderous rage in his eyes preventing anyone from asking if he needed any help. Most just stepped to the side and gave him a wide berth.

Looking over his shoulder, the Columbian saw that his pursuer, though injured, was closing on him. _Who is this guy? He's not a cop ... he's not an agent ... another contractor perhaps? _Hector's mind ran through several scenarios as he tried to limp away from the man behind him. He pulled out the pistol he had tucked in the back of his pants, a plan forming in his mind.

Hector turned back toward the street and Jordan saw the pistol in his right hand. Hector stepped out in front of a dark blue SUV that almost ran him over before skidding to a stop. Jordan broke into a run but before he could stop him, Hector had drug the female driver out of her vehicle and jumped behind the steering wheel. He slipped the vehicle into gear before gunning the engine, the vehicle racing right at Jordan who had made it to the street.

A moment later, a black Dodge Charger roared out of a side street and tapped the rear quarter panel of the SUV. Hector's vehicle spun around until it was facing west on Pico. Hector gunned the engine and the vehicle started to pull away from Sam's Charger. Callen was able to fire two shots into the vehicle's rear window when something, or rather, someone ran by him.

"What the ..." Sam began as he and his partner watched as the mysterious _ninja_ leaped into the air and scrambled up on the SUV's roof, clinging to the luggage rack. As the SUV pulled away, Sam floored the Dodge and the turbo charged Hemi peeled some of the rubber off of the rear tires as it pursued Hector once more.

Eric and Nell, along with Hetty and Granger, were anxiously watching all of this from back at operations. Nell tapped her board, opening her mike to Kensi and Deeks who were approaching from Alvarado Street. "Kensi ... Deeks, Hector has changed vehicles. He is now in a late-model dark blue, Jeep Cherokee, heading east on Pico."

An almost frantic Deeks responded. "Okay, thanks Nell ... Geez Kens, watch it!"

Kensi barely heard her partner as she navigated her way toward all the action. Stopping Hector was her main goal but if she got the chance to repay the ninja for the smack down he had given her ... well, all the pretty sketches aside, his ass was hers. "Nell, where's our _ninja_?"

Nell looked over at Eric who was sharing her anxiety at how this chase was going to work out. "Kensi, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

Callen cut in at that moment with his own update. "Hector's turning left onto Union!"

"We are still on Alvarado ... be there in a few!" Deeks was trying to talk and hang onto the panic bars in Kensi's SRX as she drove like a woman possessed. He was sure he had felt his colon shift several times already. "We'll try to cut him off at Venice!"

A few blocks over, Jordan clung to the Jeep's luggage rack, his arms stretched out to either side as Hector tried to shake him loose. Jordan was beginning to think that jumping on the vehicle's roof may have been a bad idea. Jeeps were notoriously top-heavy and if the vehicle rolled, well that wasn't a pleasant thought at all. Knowing this, he decided that this chase needed to end and end soon.

Pulling with his arms, Jordan moved up until he was over the driver's window and he braced his legs for what he was about to do. He looked up and saw that they were approaching the intersection with Venice and the street they were on forked just ahead. Leaning down, he reached through the open window and grabbed Hector by the throat and squeezed.

Hector hadn't realized he had a stowaway until a muscled arm reached in his window and a strong hand grabbed his throat and began to cut off his air supply. At that moment, a silver SRX came barreling around the corner and Hector's instinctive turn of the steering wheel sent his vehicle shooting over the curb and crashing into the block wall where Union forked right before reaching Venice. The Jeep broke through the small wall but the damage to the front end caused the vehicle to rapidly decelerate and then finally stop.

Jordan felt the impact of the wall and suddenly he was flying through the air. His flight lasted only a moment before he miraculously landed in a fairly soft clump of bushes and small trees a few feet in front of the Jeep. He rolled to his right, trying to get to his feet before Hector could recover, but this time he wasn't quite fast enough. When he came up, he was face to face with a bleeding and bruised Columbian who was pointing a pistol right at him.

Hector heard the sound of screeching tires and when he spun around, he saw the two men from the park running toward him with weapons raised. Off to his left he saw a tall blonde man and a pretty brunette exiting their vehicle and moving toward him as well. Movement behind him told him that the man who flew from the roof of the Jeep had cut off that direction as well. He was outgunned and he knew it. These people were good, probably the best he had ever faced and if it were not for the idiot who had disarmed the explosive from around Juan's mother's neck, this wouldn't be happening. He would have taken Juan to a rental storage unit and had a little fun for a while. After that, a little more time with the prostitute back at his hotel room and then maybe a run at the Lange woman later on. But Hector had always believed that the fates had decided long ago what our life would be ... and how it would end. _So ... this is the end. Oh well, such is life. _

"Drop your weapon and get on the ground!"

Hector lowered his weapon and let it fall. The two men walked closer, their weapons still pointed at his chest, the others moving around to flank him. What they hadn't noticed was the detonator resting in his left hand, and they didn't know about the two sticks of Semtex strapped low on his back. He had already changed to the next frequency, the one that would end his life as well as theirs. _Just a little closer pendejos ... just a few more steps and we will end this dance together. _

Callen and Sam parted, each moving off the one side of the Columbian, watching his every move. "Get on your knees!" The smaller man commanded and Hector eased down to the ground, the little black cylinder still hidden. Hector watched as the larger black man moved to cover his partner. _Of course, they want to arrest me ... take me away ... get information from me ... maybe even promise me a deal if I help them ... not today ... together we will see what the next world holds for us. _

Hector's thumb ghosted over the little button as he waited for the right moment. _Just a little closer culeros ... two more steps ..._

A sudden shearing pain shot through Hector's lower arm and the detonator fell from his now numb hand, rolling across the ground. He looked down and discovered a small silver-colored throwing knife protruding out of the back of his hand, the median nerve severed. It registered quickly where it had come from but now his fingers on that hand wouldn't work right so he reached for the detonator with his other.

Four gunshots rang out in rapid succession and four holes appeared in Hector de la Vega's chest. His lifeless body slumped down to the ground and then pitched forward onto his face, the 'Blood of Bogotá' was no more.

Callen and Sam moved up, Sam kicking the gun further away from Hector's dead body as Callen secured the detonator, their guns now pointing directly at Jordan Styles as he lowered himself to the ground, his hands interlocked behind his head. Sam covered while his partner patted Jordan down, removing his pistol, throwing knives, and quite few other concealed weapons.

Callen stepped behind Jordan and grabbed his right wrist, pulling it down behind his back. "Federal agents, you're coming with us." He grabbed the other hand and then used a set of zip-cuffs to restrain the larger man's hands at the small of his back.

Once the man's hands were secure, Sam walked over, holstering his weapon. "So what's your name tough guy?" Jordan simply stared straight ahead as if he hadn't heard the former S.E.A.L.'s question. "You know, we do this the easy way ... or the _hard_ way."

Jordan still appeared unaffected by current events.

Callen hooked his hand under the big man's arms, Sam copied the movement on the other side. "Okay, try this on for size: you are charged with interfering with a federal investigation, assaulting federal officers, carrying concealed weapons, stalking, and pretty much whatever our lawyers can come up with."

Sam glanced up as Kensi and Deeks moved in from their flanking positions. He nodded in Kensi's direction. "Oh yeah, and really ... I mean _really really _ticking her off."

Kensi and Deeks walked up just as Callen and Sam hauled Jordan to his feet, noting that he was a tad bit taller than Sam and just as muscled. He had a calm look on his handsome face and he appeared oblivious to the amount of trouble he was in. There wear some scrapes on his arms and his leg was bleeding a little bit, but otherwise he looked okay.

Kensi's recent defeat at the stranger's hands still burned inside her mind and the urge to shoot him was overpowering, but with too many witnesses in the area, she had to come up with a plan "B". A sudden urge overcame her and she lowered her shoulders and marched right up in front of the taller man. Deeks recognized the dangerous stance of his partner a moment too late and before he could do anything to stop her, she took one more step, planted her left foot, then brought her right knee up into Jordan's groin.

Sam and Callen felt the big man's legs give out and the audible "ooommppfff!" that escaped his mouth told them that Kensi's strike was true. Deeks grimaced in painful understanding as Jordan's knees buckled and he sank to the ground, his breathing ragged and strained. He hadn't been expecting the knee to his privates and he just hoped he didn't lose the contents of his stomach in front of the agents.

Kensi stood over the man as he curled on the ground, his body folded into a fetal position as he tried to let the pain pass quickly. Callen, Sam, and Deeks all looked at the brunette agent, their eyes as wide as saucers.

"What the hell Kensi?" Callen still held onto Jordan's arm, almost in a comforting gesture.

"Ah geez!" Sam heard the grunts of the man on the ground and looked around to make sure no one was taking a video.

"That's just ... you know ... that's just not right." Deeks shook his head in disbelief. It had been quite a while since he had seen his partner perform that particular subjugation move, he just hoped the poor man didn't plan on having any kids in his lifetime. The way the man was writhing on the ground, the possibility of him producing any off-spring didn't look promising.

Kensi just folded her arms across her chest, the look on her face was rather bemused. 'What?"

Callen and Sam exchanged a _"I didn't see anything - did you see anything?"_ expression before they knelt down and heaved the large man to his feet again. Jordan was breathing through clenched teeth and let them lead him away, his eyes never straying to far from the violent brunette that fell in behind them.

"I beginning to really worry about your anger issues there Fern. The poor guy probably won't be able to have kids after that."

Kensi marched straight ahead. "I don't know what you're talking about there Shaggy, it looked to me like he was resisting arrest."

Deeks just shook his head, knowing it was pointless to talk about it right now. "I just hope no one else saw that ..."

Almost on cue, Hetty's voice crackled over their ear-buds. "Mr. Callen, Mr. Hannah ... if prisoner requires medical attention, please have him checked out by the medical team and then transport him directly to the boat-shed. Ms. Blye, Mr. Deeks ... please check on Ms. Zappula and her son, another team will take over their situation."

Kensi let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her over-indulgent handling of their prisoner apparantly escaping Hetty's notice.

"And Ms. Blye?"

_Crap._

"Yes Hetty?"

"It has come to my attention that you need to refresh your training on the handling of suspects while they are in custody, am I correct?"

Kensi's voice fell to a sullen level. "Yes ma'am, it would appear so."

"Good, when you arrive back at OSP, please make your way to my office. You and I will have a private discussion about your ... well ... rather unorthodox techniques."

Kensi glanced over at Deeks and saw that he was about to burst out laughing. She punched him in the shoulder before she responded to Hetty. "I will be looking forward to it."

"I'm sure you will, my dear, I'm sure you ..." Hetty's voice trailed off over the comms. Back in the operations center, the view on the plasma screen had flicked to the traffic camera at the corner of Union and Venice. Eric had zoomed in on the action during the takedown of Hector, but most of it had been hidden by a set of tall trees. When Callen and Sam had walked out to the Charger, the team at ops got their first real good look at the mysterious ninja's face.

When Hetty stopped talking in the middle of her sentence, Granger looked over at her only to find that the expression on her face was one of total shock, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her mouth was still open and she didn't seem to be breathing. He touched her lightly on her arm. "Hetty, is everything alright?"

She didn't seem to register his question before she spoke again. "Mr. Callen, you will transport the prisoner directly to the boat-shed without delay. You will not ask him any more questions nor will you intimidate him further and bring all team members with you. Do I make myself clear?"

Callen leaned Jordan against the side of Sam's car and looked around at the rest of the team, a confused look on all of their faces. "Sure thing Hetty but do you still want medical to check him out? And what about Juan and Ms. Zappula?"

"I believe that my instructions were very clear Mr. Callen or do I need to repeat them?" Hetty's voice had risen to a level that none of the agents could ever recall hearing. She sounded angry, tense, and maybe even a little, if was possible, _panicked_.

"We're on our way." Callen tapped his ear bud and when the others had turned theirs off as well, he stated what they were all thinking. "What the hell was that about?" They all shared the same expression, they had never hear their fearless leader sound that way and it was quite unnerving.

Sam nodded toward their prisoner who was still staring off at nothing. "I don't know G. but I think it has something to do with _him_."

They all looked at Jordan and watched as his stoic expression turned into a rather charming smile, and suddenly they felt a chill crawl up their spines as if he knew more than they did. He didn't appear afraid or even worried about the situation he was in or how much trouble was coming his way. In fact, he seemed totally at peace, serene even.

And it scared the hell out of them.

* * *

Back in operations, Nell and Eric sat frozen in their chairs, almost afraid to breathe at what had just happened. One moment it looked as if this mess might be coming to a resolution, but Hetty's sudden change of plans and then her outburst toward Callen, and they knew something just wasn't right.

Owen Granger turned to face his old friend only to find her walking briskly toward the double doors. "Hetty, where are you going?"

Hetty stopped walking but she didn't turn around to face him. "I am heading to the boat-shed to assist my agents if you don't mind, Assistant Director."

Granger didn't recoil at the coldness of her voice, they had known each other far too long for trivialities like that. "Do you mind informing me what it is you are going to assist them with?"

"The interrogation of their prisoner, of course."

"I believe that Agents Callen and Hannah can handle this, you should stay here were you are safe. We still don't know how many contractors are out there."

Hetty's voice revealed her growing frustration at the fuss everyone was making over her safety. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself Owen. Now, I must be on my way."

"At least let me take you, Agents Accordino and Thompson are downstairs and my car is outside."

Hetty started to object but he cut her off. "Don't make me pull rank on you Henrietta, you leaving without an escort is not an option you have at the moment."

Granger watched as her shoulders slumped just a little, signalling her resignation to his orders. "Very well then. Shall we?"

Owen Granger moved to her side and they walked out together, leaving two very nervous and anxious technicians in their wake. Nell leaned over toward her counterpart. "Why do I get the feeling she knows more about what is going on that she is telling us?"

Eric eyes locked with hers. "I was about to ask you the same question."

* * *

When Hetty and Granger were escorted into the boat-shed by agents Accordino and Thompson, they found the rest of her team sitting around the large table in the middle of the room, and none of them looked too happy. Granger glanced down the hall and saw not one, but two heavily armed guards standing outside the interrogation room. He turned to the plasma screen that displayed the inside of the room where the mysterious man sat, shackled to the chair he was sitting in. _Hetty didn't say anything about taking such precautions ... good work Agent Callen._

Hetty stopped directly in front of the same screen Granger was observing, her hands linked behind her back, a rather studious expression on her face. She stared at the man on the screen for several moments, her body rigid and unmoving, her eyes fixed on the stranger.

Callen cleared his throat softly. "He hasn't said anything since we took him into custody or since we put him in there, he just stares at the table. His driver's license identifies him as a Jordan Styles, a out-of-work graphic artist from San Diego. I don't think that's who he really is ... they don't teach you how to be a ninja in graphics school."

If Hetty heard him, she made no move to acknowledge it, she just continued to stare at the screen.

"He did save our lives though." Sam rocked back in his chair, his hands behind his head. "When they searched Hector's body, they found enough Semtex strapped to him to kill anyone within a hundred foot radius. Our _ninja _took out Hector's trigger hand with a knife throw front twenty feet away. Pretty impressive."

Deeks fidgeted from his place next to Kensi. "Yeah, but he could have just been trying to save himself, you guys were just lucky he didn't beat on you too."

"Yeah, we heard what happened to you in the park Deeks, maybe you need a little more hand-to-hand training?" Sam was looking at Deeks but when he saw Kensi tense beside her partner, he knew he had better let it go, after all, Kensi had taken a licking as well, along with a fully armed, six man tactical team. He had witnessed Kensi's reaction to being bested and he didn't care to be on the receiving end of her knee.

"I don't think so ... he hasn't been hostile to us, except for when we got in his way." Callen's eyes were locked on Hetty, gauging her reaction but she hadn't moved. Something was off about her, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Granger turned and faced the agents sitting in front of him. "So, who is going to interrogate our guest?"

Both teams looked like they wanted to take a crack at the mysterious man sitting not thirty feet away from them. Sam and Callen wanted the chance to find out who this guy really was. Kensi and Deeks? Well, Kensi just wanted the chance to kick him again.

Finally, Hetty spoke. "I'm doing it."

Every face in the room had an expression of total shock and disbelief. Every one started to make some sort of statement but Callen rose first and moved to stand right in front of her. "No way Hetty, we are not going to allow you in the same room as a man who was probably hired to kill you!"

"Mr. Callen, you seem to have forgotten to whom you are speaking too."

Callen wasn't intimidated nor did he back down. "No Hetty, I won't jeopardize your safety, no matter how mad it makes you."

Even though she was a small woman, Hetty had never let that deter her from imposing her will on others. Callen felt as if she grew to ten feet tall when she looked at him with a dangerous glare in her eyes. "Mister Callen ..."

Owen Granger interrupted her. "Agent Callen in right Hetty, I will not allow you in that room by yourself."

Hetty turned and looked into each face that was looking right back at hers. "Who said anything about going into that room by myself?" A cunning smile formed on her lips and she seemed to relax her stance.

Callen just shook his head, realizing that he and the rest of his team had just been played by a master. "So we are all going in with you?"

"Oh, I expect Assistant Granger will want to observe from out here but you four are more than welcome to escort me into the interrogation room. I think it may prove enlightening for you all." She looked directly at Kensi when she spoke again. "As long as you _behave_ yourselves."

Deeks snickered and Kensi bumped her elbow against his, a slight shade of pink creeping up her face at how easily her thoughts were known. Deeks stood as the others did as well, leaning over to whisper in his partner's ear. "No fun for you Sugarbear."

Kensi dropped her head and laughed a little herself, bumping her hip against his as they stood side-by-side. "Hetty won't always be around ... I'll get another shot at him."

They moved down the hallway, the two agents guarding the door moved against the wall, their M4's held at the ready across their chests. Callen approached the door, Sam right behind him with Hetty in the middle with Kensi and Deeks brought up the rear. With one final glance at his team's faces, Callen turned the handle and marched briskly into the room.

Jordan sat absolutely still as the agents entered. The agents from the Charger moved to the right side while the blonde man who had been dressed as a homeless man and the pretty woman he had sketched in the park drifted to the left. When they were in position, the woman who he had been contracted to kill, walked calmly into the room and sat down in the chair directly across from him. Her movements refined and careful, an aire of sophistication about her.

The room fell into silence as the shackled man and the diminutive woman locked eyes at each other across the table. All the agents waited for something to happen, accusations made or threats leveled, but silence prevailed. Deeks looked over at his partner, who turned to him at the same time, shrugging her shoulders. Callen and Sam both glare at the man, as if they were daring him to make a move or even look at them the wrong way.

As if the long pause had been part of her plan the entire time, Hetty calmly leaned forward and placed her hands on top of the table, interlocking her fingers. She cocked her head to the side and a smile slowly appeared on her face. Her eyes lit up as a look of pure joy and happiness spread across her features.

Callen was stunned as Jordan's face appeared almost as joyful as Hetty's. He raised his hands to the top of the table and extended them as far as the shackles would allow. Everyone in the room froze when he held his hands out, palm up and Hetty quickly clasped her hands together with his.

"_Jericho_, my boy, it has been far too long since I have seen you!" Hetty voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. Her eyes tender and caring as she took in the man seated across from her, tears brimming at the edge of her eyes.

The man sitting across from her gently squeezed her hands. "It's good to see you too, Aunt Hetty." A lone tear escaped the big man's left eye and fell down his cheek, falling on the table.

Callen and Sam's mouths fell open and they looked as if they had suddenly learned that Elvis shot John F. Kennedy and that O.J. Simpson really was innocent.

Deeks felt his partner tense like a coiled spring beside him at the words they had heard. When she turned to look at him, her expression was one of utter shock and disbelief. He looked into her mismatched eyes and mouthed the words, _Aunt Hetty?_

Deeks didn't need to read lips in order to decipher the silent statement that fell from Kensi's suddenly dry lips.

_Oh Shit._

* * *

_..._

_..._

**A/N: I broke 8,000 words with that one ... wow! Hope you liked it!**


	10. Revelations

...

**A/N: One of the characters in this chapter is Japanese and I have used the traditional use of her name. Oda is her family name, which comes first and Chiyome is her given name, which comes last. To westerner's, this is opposite of how names are sequenced: given name first ... family name last. When her name, Oda Chiyome, appears, Chiyome is her first name and Oda is her last. Thanks.**

* * *

**Revelations**

The Japanese Airlines Boeing 777 banked gently as it began its final approach to the airport located in Santa Barbara California, the sleek wings giving off soft contrails of water vapor as the large aircraft's speed decreased. As easy as a feather floating in the air, the aircraft slowly descended, its landing gear locking into place and its powerful twin turbine engines whining as the pilot eased back on the throttle. He lined it up perfectly with the runway markers and within minutes, the plane was on the ground, taxiing to the concourse where family and friends waited impatiently for their quests to arrive.

Oda Chiyome was at her designated place at the exit door at the front of the passenger compartment, her dark blue blazer and white dress shirt that bore the bright red Japanese Airline logo was still crisp and clean, even after the long flight from mainland Japan. She spoke courteously to the departing travelers, bowing in traditional Japanese form as each person passed her assigned station.

When the last passenger departed, Chiyome moved to the flight attendant station at the rear of the aircraft, where her co-workers were beginning the post-flight checklist. It took the experienced crew only a few moments to complete their assigned tasks and they were just de-planning with the flight crew when the cleaning and maintenance group walked briskly through the covered catwalk. She moved passed them, pulling her rolling carry-on behind her and a long slender messenger tube slung over her right shoulder.

Chiyome smiled pleasantly at some of the men on the crew, presenting them with the face she always wore when she was performing her professional duties. A few of them returned her smile, and even let their eyes roam down her sleek feminine form. When she noted where their eyes were going, Chiyome laughed inwardly to herself, pleased that they thought that they would even stand a chance with her. On the outside, she was just another flight attendant that performed her duties flawlessly and flirted with the crewmen to keep up appearances; on the inside, burned a loathing of men, fueled by dark memories of horrible childhood abuse and pain.

One of the other attendants turned to Chiyome as they passed by the flight desk. "So, you are not flying back with us in the morning?"

Chiyome smiled pleasantly at the younger woman. "No Myoki, I am visiting relatives down in Los Angeles and I probably will be here for a week or more."

The younger Myoki nodded slightly to her co-worker. "Burning up some of your unused vacation time?"

Turning slightly to the dark-haired woman walking beside her, Chiyome put one of her most charming smiles on her face. "Sort of; I've been needing a break and I've already met my flight hours for the month anyway, so it's mandatory that I lay-over for at least two or three days. If my visit takes longer, I'll just take some of my vacation hours."

"Who's covering for you on the way back?"

"Hideoto."

Myoki's brown eyes flew open excitedly, her lips curved into a dreamy smirk. "Awesome, I haven't seen him since our flight to Brazil."

Chiome nodded in agreement with her friend, keeping up the act. "You two made so much noise at the hotel, I thought they were going to call the police!"

"He's quite the athlete and he knows what I like."

The two women giggled shyly as they continued through the air-terminal, picking up their remaining luggage and said their good-byes at the crew lounge. Chiyome continued on to the car rental agency desk, where her reservation was waiting for her. The handsome attendant behind the large counter smiled warmly as he handed over her receipts and keys, his flirtations courteously dismissed by the dark-haired beauty.

Chiyome waited patiently for the agency's van to arrive and a short ride later, she was opening the trunk of a Matador Red Lexus IS F Sport Sedan, and placing her carry-on and small suitcase in the trunk. Sitting in the leather driver's seat, she gently placed the leather messenger case in the seat beside her, securing it in place with the seat belt. Activating the keyless ignition system, Chiyome felt the 2.5 liter engine purr to life and reveled in the feeling of raw power that years of Toyota engineering had developed.

Driving slowly, Chiyome moved through the car lot to Hollister Avenue until she reached the edge of the Twin Lakes Golf Course on South Fairview. She found a poorly kept side road and moved to a secluded spot under several large oak trees where she was sure there were no security cameras and she couldn't be observed from the nearby highway. After checking and re-checking to make sure that she was not under any form of observation, she placed the transmission in neutral and let the engine idle as she unzipped the messenger tube. She removed a small clear pouch that contained a short intelligence report and a few photos, but those were left in their packets, the information already assimilated before she left Japan. The item she sought was still inside the leather bag, and she desperately needed to hold it in her hands.

Slowly and reverently, Chiyome eased a deep red silk bag from the confines of the tube and laid it softly across her thighs. She unfastened the ties that held the bag closed and then she reached in and pulled out the object she was seeking: a black-handled _Ninjato_, the traditional short sword used by the ninja of feudal Japan. It was smaller than the long-bladed Katana, about the length of a Wakizashi, the Samurai short sword. When she drew it from its saya (scabbard) the forged blade made a soft slicing sound, like it was seeking the air for blood all on its own.

Chiyome held her ninjato firmly in her right hand, the mirrored blade shinning brightly in the light from the setting sun as she turned it slowly. She looked down and read the inscription etched on the tsuba (hand guard). _The blood is the sword ... the sword is the blood. _She didn't really know how much blood this sword had spilt in its lifetime, it had been presented to her after her training was completed by her paternal grandfather and it had come to him from his grandfather. It had been used by her family since the late seventeenth century and was as sharp today as the day it was crafted in the hills of Edo province by master sword maker, Haikiro Matsuami.

As the haunting drum beats of Kitaro played on the stereo, Chiyome briefly reflected on the ninja tradition that had brought her to this place and time. This is what she was raised for ... what she was born to do and she was one of the best that the dark underworld of Japan had to offer. Her years of training and then her time serving the Hetami Clan that ran the largest organized crime sindicate in Tokyo had turned her into a remorseless killer. Her family had long ago surrendered to the darker aspects of ninjutsu and sold themselves to the highest bidders as invisible assassins, killers for hire.

Still holding the sword, Chiyome looked down at the picture that lay encased in a plastic cover on the passenger seat. The woman pictured there looked completely harmless; she was petite, small, and slightly aged. But Chiyome had learned long ago never to misjudge an enemy and to always assume that appearances were deceiving. Looking into the woman's eyes, Chiyome spoke softly to herself.

"It is my honor and duty to send you into the next life, Henrietta Lange. "

Without looking, Chiyome spun the ninjato through the air and seamlessly slipped it back into its tsuba in one fluid movement, the product of years of practice. She placed it between the center console and her seat before she put the vehicle in gear and eased out of her hiding spot. The avenue carried her to the 101 where she merged into the south-bound lanes that would take her through Ventura and Thousand Oaks before making its way to downtown Los Angeles.

The ninja's target was waiting.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in a boat shed nestled along the piers of L.A..._

"Mr. Callen, would you be so kind and please remove the shackles from my nephew?"

Callen heard the words but his mind was still in a state of shock from the brief exchange between the two people seated in front of him. 'Aunt Hetty' ... 'nephew' ..._ What in the world was going on?! _He suddenly felt like the floor had shifted under his feet, like one of the small earthquake's that were common to the area had rumbled through. But there was no earthquake, but G. Callen felt like the walls should be shaking and the ground rumbling.

With his hands shaking ever so slightly, Callen stepped forward and carefully unshackled the large man Hetty had called 'Jericho' as the rest of his team watched, their faces conveying their surprise at this new revelation. Sam seemed totally stunned as he hadn't actually heard the exchange between his boss and the man they just arrested earlier in the day. Deeks' face conveyed his concern for Hetty, the woman considered a mentor and great friend. Kensi looked like she was hoping the ground would suddenly open up and swallow her whole.

"Do you require medical attention after your rather adventurous afternoon?"

Jericho smiled sheepishly. "After they shackled me to this chair, one of the agents now outside in the hallway, patched me up and the other covered me with his M4 while doing his best Clint Eastwood impersonation. The rest is just minor scrapes and bruises ... I'll live." He glanced up at Callen who finished removing the cuffs from his wrists. "Thank you, Agent Callen."

Callen stepped back and peered into the man's eyes, they were a deep green, almost like the sea on a clear day and were devoid of any ill-will or any signs of deception. To deceive G. Callen, you had to bring your 'A-game', and right now, the man sitting before him appeared completely sincere and honest. "You're welcome, uh ... I guess it's Jericho?"

Jericho was massaging his wrists as the circulation slowly returned when Callen held out his hand. He glanced down at it for a moment before reaching up and firmly shaking hands with the man standing beside him. "Yes, Jericho ... Jericho Steele."

Sam had crossed his arms across his massive chest and didn't seem as pleased as his partner. "If that's your real name."

Hetty's head turned quickly to her left, but before she could speak, Jericho cut her off. "Yes, it's my real name, well at least as far as I know."

Deeks shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What does that mean?"

Jericho and Hetty exchanged a curious look before she spoke. "Before we continue, I believe that this conversation could be conducted in a more comfortable setting. Wouldn't you all agree?"

Several heads nodded in agreement and the team started to slowly move out of the interrogation room, Hetty leaving first followed closely by Jericho who towered over her. He moved gracefully for such a big man and seemed completely at ease in the unfamiliar environment. When they moved to the conference room, they found a rather perplexed and intense Owen Granger waiting for them.

"Henrietta, would you please explain to me who this man really is, I know for a fact you are an only child and that you have no living relatives, much less a _nephew."_

Hetty didn't respond as she sat at the head of the large table that occupied the middle of the conference room. Jericho stopped to her right and stood almost motionless as the rest of the team moved to various places around the table, some sitting, some standing. Granger took a position directly opposite from Hetty and Jericho, the scowl on his face indicating his intense interest in the explaination of the current situation. Jericho bent slightly at his waist and Hetty glanced up at him. When they spoke to each other, the language was unfamiliar to anyone in the room. Callen thought it sounded a little like Mandarin but the consonants were out-of-order, so he just waited and listened.

_"Aunt Hetty, how much do they need to know now?"_

_"Just give them enough so that they see you as an ally, not a threat"_

_"So, should I just give them the basics?"_

_"I'll fill in when I consider it necessary."_

_"Sounds good to me."_

_"And Jericho? I'm glad you're here."_

_"Me too." _Jericho's smile was enormous and genuine. The others in the room may not have understood the words, but they could tell that these two were close and their anxiety about Jericho's identity eased a little more.

Hetty returned her gaze to the men and one woman sitting before her, taking in their inquisitive expressions and wondering how well they would respond. "Whatever you feel is pertinent for them to know, you may divulge."

The big man laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. In a move that caught them completely off guard, Hetty reached up and placed her smaller hand on his, giving him a light squeeze herself. "Well, yes, you are correct Assistant Director Granger, Hetty is not really my aunt, that's just what I've called her since I first met her."

Callen had known Hetty more than anyone in the room, except for Granger, or so he thought. "And how long have you known her?"

"Since I was eight years old." A sly grin found its way to Hetty's and Jericho's faces and it seemed like they were sharing a fond memory between themselves. The team seemed stunned, but Hetty had always been an enigma to them and this new discovery just seemed par for the course.

Jericho pulled out a chair and sat down next to Hetty. "I think that I'd rather sit, it's a rather long story and for some reason, I'm a little sore." He was looking directly at Kensi when he spoke and she lowered her head for a moment, embarrassed at her earlier actions. Kneeing Jericho in the groin wasn't her best moment and she was dreading the talk Hetty had promised her. Jericho seemed sensitive to the younger woman's discomfort and tried to reduce some of it. "It's probably from flying from the roof of a moving car."

Deeks' bark of laughter caused everyone to look over at him. "I thought it was because Kensi kneed you in your _non de plumes_. Ow!" He yelped when she kicked him under the table.

"It's quite alright, Detective Deeks, I assume. Agent Blye was just establishing her authority over a man who had assaulted her and her partner, it's perfectly understandable." He laughed softly to himself and shifted gently in his chair. "_Painful_ ... but understandable."

Kensi's face flushed a little pink at Jericho's attempt to lighten the situation and she was inwardly grateful that he didn't seem to be holding a grudge. "You seem to know us ... would you mind telling us more about you." Her question was a little pointed, but if it offended Jericho, he just shrugged it off.

"Yes, you're right Agent Blye. For the last several years, I have worked for a rather obscure department of the N.S.A."

Sam had carried the same scowl on his face from the interrogation room. "Which department?"

"I'm sorry, Agent Hannah, but I am not at liberty to reveal that specific information, national security and all. Let's just say that if the intelligence community were a family, we're the uncle no one wants to see at the family reunion."

Granger wasn't pleased. "What the hell does that mean?"

"We get the missions that no one else wants, do what no one else can do, and sometimes we actually win one for the good guys. I will give you more detailed information but only in a Level 5 secured room ... not here."

Sam's scowl morphed into an outright glare. "That doesn't mean that we can trust you."

Hetty's response was immediate and forceful. "I would hope that if someone has earned my trust, they would have yours as well, Agent Hannah. You know that I do not give my trust away lightly, Mr. Steele has served this country honorably for many years and you will soon see that he deserves the same respect that you give to me."

Sam started to respond, but Jericho spoke first. "It's okay Aunt Hetty, Agent Hannah is just being cautious. With the current situation, who could blame him." His words were non-threatening but he shot a look at the formal S.E.A.L. that conveyed very clearly that if Sam wanted to get into a pissing contest about this, Jericho was up to the challenge.

Hetty sensed the increasing tension between the two men. "I have known Mr. Steele longer than I have known all of you with the exception of Owen, so let me clear about this: _I trust him implicitly_ ... and I am asking you to do the same ... _all of you_."

Silence fell over the room as the petite woman's words sank in, a few of them shifting in their seats. No one dared to challenge the intensity of the glare she was sending them, like she was correcting a bunch of rude children and she was silently telling them to knock it off.

Jericho rocked back in his chair, an understanding expression on his face. "Maybe it would better if I just ..."

When Kensi spoke, it surprised them all. "No. Hetty's right, we are being rude. But you must understand Mr. Steele ... "

"Just call me Jericho, please."

Her smile was genuine when she continued. "Jericho, please understand, Hetty is our leader and, more importantly, she's our friend. We will do anything to keep her safe ... _anything_."

"I do understand Agent Blye, and believe me, I will do the same to protect her and I do apologize for arriving this way but it couldn't be avoided. If I may continue, I'll try to explain." A series of nods indicated that they were all still curious about the man who had crashed into their little world.

"A few years ago, my department started extricating assets from various countries that were, shall we say, unfriendly toward us. Countries like Syria, Russia, Iran, North Korea, China ... well, you get the picture. Unfortunately, some of these nations were not too keen on loosing some of these people to us, so a more creative way of collecting them had to be implemented."

"We had to make it so that their governments would not come looking for them, ever. Making it look like they were dead was the easiest way to do that and that's how my persona as an international hit-man was created. I've spent the last few years rescuing former K.G.B. agents, nuclear scientists, cartel members, scientists and sometimes their families from countries that would rather see them dead than in our hands."

Jericho let the information settle in before he continued. "Last week, I had just finished an assignment in Dubai where I was extracting an Al Qaeda leader's son who was involved with a French translator and was willing to help the C.I.A., when I received a contract to liquidate a certain Director of Operations by the name of Henrietta Lange."

"As I made my way to L.A., I discovered that this was an open contract: multiple contractors assigned the same target, the one makes the kill gets the last big payout. I ran into two of them during my stop-over in Berlin."

Hetty looked down at the table and asked, "What happened to them?"

Jericho's face turned dark for a moment as he responded to the woman seated next to him. "I was forced to deal with them."

Hetty's voice didn't waver. "When you say 'deal' ... you mean 'kill' do you not?"

"Yes ma'am." Jericho replied politely as he looked up at the ceiling as if he wasn't proud of the fact. "It was sanctioned ... they were clean kills."

Some of the team felt a little uncomfortable at the admission at Jericho's actions, even if they were for the greater good. His face fell when he saw the disapproving looks coming from around the table. "Like I said, missions no one else wants ..." His statement caught all of them a little off-guard. They had all done things for the safety of others that would be frowned upon by those on the outside looking in, and now they were judging a man they barely knew for actions they did not witness.

Callen realized that the mood of the room was changing and that despite how they may feel at the moment, this man was there to help, not hurt them. Sitting back in his chair, he interlocked his hands behind his head and tried to move the conversation along. "How big was the payout for this job?"

Jericho paused for moment before looking down at the table. "Five million Euros ... that's just over six and a half million U.S. dollars."

Deeks let out a long whistle and said what the others were thinking. "Geez ... that's a lot of fish tacos."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence and Kensi was debating kicking him under the table again but when Jericho started to laugh, the others did as well. All except for Granger. "So, who would put such a high price on Henrietta's head, Steele?"

Jericho didn't seem too impressed with the Assistant Director, as if he were an unvited guest at a private party. "I have no idea. Hetty has made enemies all over the globe, from the Golan Heights to the streets of Bangkok. I do know that whoever they are, they seem to have immense wealth and power, I've never heard of such a large contract for someone at Hetty's level."

Kensi raised her eyebrows. "Hetty's level?"

Jericho turned his deep green eyes to the young woman. "That amount of money is usually reserved for a head-of-state, a diplomat, ambassador ... a hit that would cripple a country, not a woman who should be enjoying her retirement."

Hetty's elbow jabbed sideways into the Jericho's ribs and he grunted softly. "_Sorry_ ... a woman in the bright highlight of her adulthood who should be wind-surfing in Hawaii or skydiving onto Mt. Everest ..."

The humorous look Hetty shot him gave the others a glimpse of the familiar relationship they shared. Jericho just shook his head slightly and continued with his impromptu briefing. "And they seem to have access to data on her that isn't easily available and that's a problem."

The fact that Hetty's security had been compromised, left the team a little shocked. Her secrets were just that ... secrets. Her years with the C.I.A. and many other agencies that where known by their initials, had given her a résumé that would rival James Bond's and know it seemed that a Pandora's box had been opened.

"I don't think that the information is out in the open but it may not stay that way for long. I have nothing to go on as far as the leak is concerned, and that's one of the reason's I allowed myself to be taken into your custody."

The three agents and one detective shared a look that said they couldn't believe what they had just heard.

Kensi didn't even try to hide her disapproval of his statement. "You _'allowed' _us to take you into custody?"

Jericho answered as if he had just stated a universal fact. "Yes Agent Blye, I did."

Deeks sensed his partner's anger begin to rise from the ashes and knew he had better do something before she shot Jericho right in front of everyone. He reached under the table and squeezed her thigh, signalling her to take a deep breath and count to ten ... or a hundred ... or even a thousand if that's what it took. She shot him a look and suddenly he felt as if sitting right beside her may not have been the safest place in the room, but when her burning brown eyes met his pacific blue ones, he saw her visibly calm down ... a little anyway.

Turning back to the man sitting beside Hetty, Deeks tried to dispel some of the sudden tension in the room. "So, why did you 'allow' us to bring you in?"

Jericho caught the subtle interaction between the brunette and her scruffy partner, and smiled a little on the inside. "I guess that came out wrong, that's not what I meant. I needed to get inside your agency without compromising my cover that has taken me years to build. Having you arrest me in full view of the public keeps my cover intact."

Callen had been listening and had a few questions of his own. "So how did you end up in the park and how did you know about who we were?"

"Hector picked up two burn phones, one for him and one for the gang that stole the Semtex and was tailing Hetty. I used the gang leaders phone to trace back to where it was purchased and the records there lead me to Hector. I reprogrammed another phone to answer Hector's incoming calls so I was listening when Juan called and set up the exchange." Jericho's face fell and he seemed like he needed to say something more. "I didn't anticipate Hector bringing the young man's mother into the mix, if I had, I would have intercepted him earlier. I assume that they are both well?"

"Yes, they are ... and no small thanks to you. Hector was going to kill her all along and we weren't in place to stop him, you saved her life." Callen didn't know the man, but he knew what he had done in the park and that his actions needed to be acknowledged.

When Jericho spoke, even Kensi felt like she was seriously misjudging the stranger. "_We _saved her and the life of her son. I was closest to the mother so I took care of her and had to trust that your team would be able to help the boy. If you hadn't distracted Hector, he would have shot that kid in the back."

Sam was feeling a lot like Kensi, his anger and mistrust was slowly giving way to curiosity. "How did you know who we were?"

Jericho glances around the table, looking each team member in the face before he answered. "I didn't, not really. I knew the names of Hetty's field team, but not what you looked like nor where exactly you would deploy in the park. I guessed you would set up an unseen perimeter around Juan and I just waited until I spotted a very anxious young hispanic male with a back pack to sit on a bench. Then I watched everyone that was in the area."

Jericho nodded toward Sam and Callen. "I'm sorry to say that you two were the easiest to spot."

The two senior partners suddenly looked confused and a little upset. They spoke at the same time, "How?"

"The park maintenance workers are all union and that means a regular eight-hour workday. All park employees start at eight in the morning with an hour lunch break, they clock out at the end of the day at five. Union rules prohibit any unsanctioned overtime and you and Agent Hannah were still working at 1730 hours and you shouldn't have been there."

The older agents were a little upset that they had so easily been spotted, but the mission had been successful and Hector had met his end with no friendly casualties. They were seasoned enough to know that constructive criticism should be appreciated for what it was ... a way for them to improve.

"Busted." Deeks just couldn't help himself. The second kick under the table should have surprised him but it didn't.

Sam's stance turned from relaxed to threatening in a flash as he glared at the blonde detective. "So how did you spot our resident bum?" There was no question as to whom he was referring as he looked directly at Deeks.

"I almost didn't." Jericho nodded across the table to the younger man. "If I hadn't been listening in on your comms, I may not have realized you were part of the team Detective. It seemed like you had used that cover before, good work."

The snickers and smiles that went around the table cued Jericho that he was apparently missing something. Seeing the confused look on his face, Sam tried to explain. "Deeks is our team mascot and it's sometimes difficult to tell if he's undercover or if it's just another day at Mystery Inc."

"Mystery Inc.?" Then Jericho's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "Does that mean they call you 'Shaggy'?"

Kensi laughed along with the others at the discovery of their little inside joke. She also had to admit, even though she had been a little put off by her first meeting with Jericho, he was sharp and perceptive. As she sat across the table from him, she also noted that he was rather handsome with a strong jaw line that was slightly hidden by a scruffy beard and the greenest eyes she had ever seen, they were the color of creamy jade. The brown hair that framed his face was almost as long Deeks' and she could tell he had a muscled chest underneath his slightly torn t-shirt. When looked up into his face, he had on a boyish grin that seemed to convey a streak of mischief.

Deeks let the little slam against his appearance slide as a thought popped into his head. "Wait, you said you were listening to our coms, how'd you pull that off?"

"When I entered the park, I knew that you would have comms up so I used a frequency tracer to find them. I worked my way around that area of the park, using the cover of sketching for tips to approach and scan anyone that I thought might be an agent and you have to be pretty close to someone for it to pick up the channels. Agent Blye was the fourth person that I checked and that's how I got on your system."

Kensi had a nagging question and suddenly she was speaking before she realized it. "So why did you sketch me?"

Jericho's face momentarily betrayed a look of longing and pain but he quickly recovered. When he turned to face her, Kensi saw that the hurt had been hidden behind his soft eyes. "What I said to you in the park was true, I've only met one other woman with your particular birthmark, the Nevus of Ota, and I just couldn't resist drawing you." When he saw a slight blush creep up her face, Jericho felt guilty. "I apologize Agent Blye, I hope that I haven't embarrassed you."

Kensi let a gentle smile form on her lips. "No, it's alright and, if I may say so, you are quite the artist and I thank you for the gift."

"You kept it?" Deeks asked at the same time Jericho did.

Kensi shot her partner a warning look. "Of course I kept it, it is incredible." She watched as her partner tried to hide his jealousy behind one of his goofy looks, but she knew him all too well. A soft tap of her foot against his calf muscle conveyed that he should just let it go. To her great relief, he did.

Realizing that the conversation had taken an awkward turn, Jericho went back to his briefing. "When I heard that Hector had arrived with Juan's mother, I hoped that I could get close enough to help you guys take him out. The DET cord around her neck was a little crude but still effective. Hector was distracted just long enough for me to get it of and disable the receiver before he could detonate it."

Sam rocked forward in his chair, his large arm muscles rippling as he rested his hands on the table. "Why did you run from Kensi and Deeks after they identified themselves as Federal agents?"

"I had to make sure that Hector was either taken in to custody or taken out all together. I was worried that he might get away so I continued to pursue him until I was sure he was neutralized. I just couldn't take the chance that he would get away." Jericho shrugged his shoulders. "I hope I didn't cause too much damage to your team."

"Too much damage to your team?!" Sam's forearms were quivering when he leaned on the table. "You assaulted two federal agents and then took out one of our tactical teams, that hardly seems like the actions of someone who is on our side."

"Mr. Hannah! That is quite enough ..." Hetty's body was tense and rigid, like she was fighting a war with her anger. A large hand that came to rest on her shoulder calmed her and she slowly regained her control.

"Aunt Hetty ... it's alright, I can handle this." As he spoke, he was looking directly at the formal S.E.A.L. sitting across from him. "Agent Hannah, did I wrong you in another life?"

Sam glared at the big man, the hostility clear in his body language and his eyes. "I don't like people who mess with my team ... my family."

"With all due respect Agent Hannah, but the woman seated next to me literally plucked me out of hell when I was just a boy, she gave me an identity ... a _life_. She's the only family that I have." Jericho eased forward in his seat, a determined and deadly look on his face. "If any one in this room has a claim on her as part of a family ... it is I and I'll be damned if I will allow anyone to bring harm to her. I came here willingly, seeking your help but if my methods are too unorthodox for you here at N.C.I.S., then maybe you all are not the agents that I had hoped you would be, maybe I would be better off on my own."

Jericho let his words sink in as he watched the reactions of those around the table. Seeing most of their eyes fall from meeting his, he decided to try a different approach. "Answer me this: what happens in a debrief after a mission?"

Kensi looked around and when no one answered, she decided to be the more mature one of the bunch. "We discuss what went right and what went wrong."

"And what went wrong when you encountered me?"

Deeks shuffled uneasily in his chair. "We got our asses kicked."

Jericho didn't let up. "By a street artist that wandered into your operation." As if that fact had somehow slipped their minds, the team visibly bristled at the realization. When he saw the uncertain expressions on their faces, he made his final point. "What if I hadn't been one of the good guys? What if I had been another contractor out to kill Hetty?"

Silence.

"These two," he pointed at Kensi and Deeks, "would be lying on a slab at the morgue along with most, if not all, of your tactical team." Jericho saw Kensi and Deeks bodies react to his statement and he didn't want them to misunderstand. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Before Agent Blye kicks me again or shoots me ... think about what I just said."

The faces of the agents sitting around the table were at first angry and even a bit hostile, but the more Jericho's words reverberated in their minds, they began to see what he meant. It wasn't that he was trying to insult or provoke them , he was trying to make them see that their pride was getting in the way of clearly seeing the situation.

Callen was the first to verbalize what most of them were already thinking. "What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger."

Sam softly shook his head, a slight grin on his face. "Friedrich Nietzsche."

Jericho felt a wave of relief sweep over him and he hoped now that they would be on the same wavelength. "Exactly. A lesson I learned a long time ago is that there is always someone out there that is better than you are. There will always be someone who can run faster, shoot better, jump higher, fight better than you can. Most of the time, you never cross paths with them, sometimes you do. You are some of the best N.C.I.S. has to offer ... you have to be better than this ... you have to be ready for_ anything_."

Sam looked over at the man sitting beside Hetty, thinking that he had seriously misjudged him. The words had stung a little, but the humble tone of the man who presented them, indicated that he did, in fact, have the best interests of the team at heart. "So what you are saying is that some of us need to step up our hand-to-hand combat training?"

Jericho detected the slight bit of humor in Sam's voice, and it made him chuckle a little. "Yeah, Agent Hannah, that might be a good idea. The next time I run into your team, I may not be so gentle."

"Jericho, please call me Sam."

"Certainly, nice to meet you Sam."

"Gentle? _That _was gentle!" Deeks looked like he was about to blow a gasket. "My arm still hurts and I haven't looked at my ribs where Kensi landed but I'm sure there's a bruise!"

"Come on Deeks, we all know you're fragile." Callen couldn't hide his smile.

"I bruise easy. I'm delicate ... not fragile ... d-e-l-i-c-a-t-e."

"Whatever."

The chuckles that went around the table caused the tension that had been building to ease. They were all on edge, not only because of the imminent threat to their boss but the realization that Hector was apparently just the beginning. There was no way for them to know how many contractors were on their way or already there.

Assistant Director Owen Granger had watched the interactions between Hetty's team and Jericho, and even though he trusted her, he still wanted more information before he allowed anyone to get too close. Loudly clearing his throat, he waited until they were quiet before he began. "I would still like to know exactly what you meant when you said Hetty gave you an identity ... a life."

Jericho quickly glanced over at Hetty before he sat back in his chair. "This is a story better told by Aunt Hetty. I will fill in when needed."

Hetty sat up in her seat, and laid her small hands on the table in front of her. "Some of this information is still classified and I will only relay what applies to Mr. Steele and how I first met him. Please considered this priviledged information and that it does not leave this room."

When a series of head nods answered her, she began. "In nineteen eighty-three, I was stationed in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia working for the C.I.A. I will cannot reveal the assignment at this time but I was posing as a nurse at the city hospital. One night when I was walking home from my shift, I caught a rather young street urchin trying to pick my pocket."

The team's eyes all turned to Jericho and he just smiled back. "I had been living on the streets for a few years and ..."

Kensi interupted him, a look of disbelief on her face. "How old were you?"

"I'm not really sure. I guess I was about six or seven when I escaped from the government-run orphanage I was in. I say _escaped_ because that place was so bad that living on the streets was almost like being on holiday."

"How did you end up in the orphanage?" Callen hid the emotional storm brewing inside of him, his own traumatic memories of a lost childhood flooding his mind.

"I have no idea. I have faint memories of my parents, but all I really remember is living in the orphanage. I ran away to the streets and after a few months learned how to survive."

Kensi's hand covered her mouth as she gasped softly. "But you were _six_."

Hearing the shock in her voice and seeing it etched clearly on her face, Jericho smiled at her concern. "Yes, I was but we humans will always find a way to survive. It was hard at first but there were a lot of kids on the streets, most were just trying to get by and we ended up forming into little families. We'd find a place to sleep and then would spend our days finding food. We took care of each other."

"A few years later, I was the best pick-pocket on the north side of the city, I'm still pretty good." Deeks didn't like the little smirk Jericho shot at Kensi, but he was too entranced by the story to say anything about it.

"I had been watching the hospital for a few nights, looking for an easy mark, when I saw this tiny, little nurse walking home. I thought this would be easy, I mean, after all, I was almost as tall as she was." Jericho laughed and, to the team's amazement, so did Hetty. Sam carefully laughed along with them, remembering what had happened when he had recently made an off-hand comment about Hetty's height ... or rather, the lack thereof.

Hetty's voice clearly revealed how fond she was of the man sitting just to her right. "That's when I caught this little fellow with his hand in my pocket. I grabbed him by his ear and gave him a stern talking too."

"And it scared me to death!" The sheepish smiles of the people sitting around him, told him that they understood exactly what he was talking about. "I thought I was dead meat, or that she was at least going to call the police ... that would have been worse than the orphanage."

Hetty's expression morphed into something tender ... sofT ... motherly. "For some reason, I just took him back to my apartment, fed him, gave him a bath, and let him sleep on my couch."

Callen's voice quavered for a moment but none of his teammates seemed to notice. "What made you do that?"

Hetty looked down at her hands, contemplating her answer. "I'm not sure. I think I saw something in his eyes that told me he had a good heart, that he was in need of rescuing." She looked down and her voice quietly faded as a large hand reached over and gently covered hers, giving her a tender squeeze. Finding her strength again, she turned her gaze to Callen, another orphan that was discovering that Hetty's recruitment of young abandoned children surpassed anything he could have ever imagined.

"She wouldn't let me leave and the next day she made me breakfast, took me shopping, bought me some new clothes, shoes ... " This time it was Jericho's voice that was thick with emotion. Kensi and Deeks were sitting the closest to him and they could see the unshed tears at the corners of his eyes. "She took me to the park and bought me an ice cream ... it was mint-chocolate chip ... that was the first time I remember ever having ice cream."

Hetty pulled one of her hands from under Jericho's and laid it on top of his. "I decided to bring him home to the States with me, so I procured a passport, birth certificate, and an identity."

Kensi looked with compassionate eyes to the man sitting across from her. "So, Jericho Steele isn't your real name."

"No, I don't remember my real name, parents, my birthdate ... much of anything."

Hetty smile sweetly as the memories flooded back. "I had to give him a name and birthdate for documentation reasons and when we arrived back stateside and I found a family to raise him."

Deeks' was thinking of his own troubled childhood and the pain he had endured at the hands of his father. "Was it a good home?"

"They were a couple that worked as intelligence analysts at Langley; they couldn't have children of their own so they adopted Jericho here." Hetty squeezed his large hand with her smaller one. "I knew I wouldn't be able to take care of him with my overseas operations still ongoing but I came by as much as I could to see how my _nephew_ was doing. They did a wonderful job, but they died in an automobile accident during Jericho's senior year in highschool."

The group felt silent at Hetty's last comment, trying to absorb all the information as best they could. Granger had listened to how Hetty and Jericho had first met but he was still waiting for more data. "So how did you end up working for ... well, whoever it is you say you are working for?"

"I graduated from high-school when I was seven-teen, earning a scholarship to the Naval Academy at Annapolis and upon graduation there, I received a commission into the United States Marine Corps as a First Lieutenant. My first duty station was in intelligence and after a few years there, they sent me over to the infantry were I was deployed with the grunts of the 22nd M.E.U. (Marine Expeditionary Unit) as a platoon leader. They eventually sent me to sniper school and my last station was with the unit's S.T.A. (Surveillance and Target Acquisition) platoon operating out of the Mediterranean Sea and that's where the State Department started to recruit me ... that's what eventually led me here."

At the mention of the words _Marine_ and _sniper, _Kensi felt her chest constrict slightly in her chest, memories from her childhood flooding her. "You were a Marine sniper?"

"Still am Agent Blye ... _Once a Marine , Always a Marine."_

She smiled and felt the sense of pride at his answer, she had heard that for years from her own father before she tragically lost him. When Kensi looked up, she caught his kind green eyes boring deeply into hers, like he wanted to say something but was not quite sure how to do it. He gave her a quick wink before he quickly looked away, turning back to face the others around the table. Whatever this mysterious man had to say, she guessed that she would just have to wait.

"Semper Fi, _Marine_." Kensi always said that to any Marine she met, whether they were active duty or not, it was something she did to honor the memory her father.

"Til I die." Jericho nodded towards the brunette, appreciative of her simple greeting. Turning back to the rest of the group, he continued.

"Look, I know how I would feel if someone waltzed into my backyard and started messing around with my stuff but these people are serious and we are going to have to work together in order to protect Hetty and end this." He made a point of looking each one of them in the eye so that could see his sincerity.

Callen rocked forward and rested his elbows on the edge of the large table. "I appreciate what you have told us but we will only proceed if my entire team is on board." Callen then looked around the table at each member in turn.

"Deeks?"

The blonde detective was still smarting from his throbbing shoulder but for some reason decided that if this man was trusted by Hetty, he couldn't be all that bad. "Sure thing."

"Kensi?"

Looking at her team leader for a moment, Kensi turned her head and focused her eyes on the tall man beside Hetty. The completely open and honest expression on his face intrigued her, as if they shared something that she didn't understand yet. "I'm in."

"Sam?"

The big S.E.A.L. let a small grin appear on his smooth face, all the animosity from earlier totally absent. "He seems okay, but if he steps out of line, we'll just let Kensi shoot him."

Callen looked quickly over at Jericho to gauge his reaction and saw that he was smiling from ear to ear and gently shaking his head. "I guess this means we are working together."

Jericho nodded to the older agent. "Thanks Agent Callen. I will do my best to stay out of your way, this is your backyard after all and I'm just here to help."

Granger pushed himself off the wall and stalked over to were the big man was sitting. "We've had other agencies show up here just 'to help' and it has never ended well for either party." The intensity of his glare was not missed by any one in the room, especially Hetty.

"Assistant Director Granger, interagency co-operation has been one of the main focuses of the Secretary of the Navy this year. Perhaps it would be wise to demonstrate our adherence to his directives rather than squabbling over territorial boundaries that hinder our ability to work together as a cohesive unit." Hetty's voice never changed pitch or volume but the certainty of her statement was firm.

Knowing that he had no allies in the room at the moment, Granger calmly placed his hands behind his back, falling back to his calm-but-pissed stance. "Very well. I will confer with the Secretary this evening and formulate a game plan to track down the mole we apparently have inside the agency. Agent Callen, I will leave the protection of Ms. Lange in your capable hands but if you need any assistance from me, do not hesitate to ask. I am going back to operations to verify the locations of Hetty's new safe house and assignment of her protection detail."

Granger moved toward the door but stopped just short of the exit. "Hetty is currently under protective custody and she will not leave a secured area without the presence of no less than two armed agents with her at all times. If you need additional man-power, operations will have the list of agents on standby available for your review." He nodded solemnly to Hetty before turning quickly and exiting the building.

When the wood door finally slammed shut, Deeks let out a long breath. "Geez, I didn't think he would ever leave."

Callen stood and moved over to face Hetty, nodding to his partner. "Sam and I will guard you tonight and we'll get a fresh start early tomorrow back at operations. I'm sure Eric and Nell have the address of your new safe house, we'll swing by the Mission and pick up our gear and anything else we might need. We can co-ordinate better once we get there."

The team stood and moved toward the doors that led out of the building when Jericho turned to Callen and Sam. "Would you guys mind escorting Aunt Hetty? I need to stop by my hotel room and pick up my clothes and my gear and I'm hoping Agent Blye and Detective Deeks will give me a lift."

Callen nodded and moved in front of Hetty as they neared the doors. "Sure thing, we'll see you guys in a few."

Jericho stepped forward and pulled Hetty into a gentle hug, her feet leaving the ground and his surrounded her with his thick arms. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Then he kissed her softly on the top of her head.

Hetty's small arms didn't even reach halfway around Jericho's chest, but she hugged him back as best she could. "See to it that you are my boy, I believe it is your move after all."

Jericho set her down on the floor and she turned and left with Sam and Callen, Sam looked back briefly, sending the other man a nod of reassurance before following the others out the door. When he turned around, Deeks and Kensi had somewhat perplexed expressions on their faces.

"_Your move ... _What does that mean?" Kensi cocked her head to the side in a mirror image of Deeks who was wearing an equally confused look.

"Oh, that." Jericho put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Every time that Hetty and I get together, we try to play a few games of chess. Since we don't get together that often, the games tend to be on the lengthy side."

Kensi was pulling her keys out of her pocket when her partner asked the question before she could. "How long has this game been going on?"

Jericho looked up at the ceiling and they could see his mind working out the math. "Let's see ... um ... six years."

"Holy bat crap!" Deeks felt a little shocked. "I have a hard time keeping up with my last score on _Call of Duty."_

Kensi snapped her fingers as if she had discovered something that had been their the entire time, and both men looked back at her. "That's the chess set sitting in the cabinet behind Hetty's chair, I always wondered why the pieces were in play."

Deeks was still shaking his head. "Six years ... wow. So who was winning?"

"I take it that you don't play much chess Deeks." Jericho turned as they headed toward the parking lot. "It's not about 'who's winning', it's about how the game is played ... moves ... counter-moves ... strategy ... anticipation ... sacrifice ... staying one or two moves ahead of the other player. The winner isn't the player with the most pieces, the winner is the one still standing when it's all over."

Kensi could tell Deeks had zoned out when he realized that a chess board didn't have a control pad. "You'll have to excuse my partner here, he still thinks Space Invaders was the greatest game invented."

"At least it's better than Ms. PacMan."

Jericho shook his head and smiled as the brunette's right arm landed in the center of the detective's bicep. "That's only about one-third of how hard I can hit you, I'm being nice since you're so _delicate_."

"Ow Kens ... I've already had enough physical abuse today ... from the both of you!"

"You're right ... here ...catch." Deeks almost missed when Kensi threw her keys to him. "To make it up to you, I'll let you drive back to ops."

Jericho thought Deeks' face was going to rip itself in half with the smile that appeared. "Really Kens? Holy Bat Crap! You guys wait here, I'll pull the car around."

Kensi yelled at her partner's back as he sprinted across the lot to her SRX. "And don't touch the radio station!"

"I wouldn't even think of it Fern!"

Jericho's eyebrows went up at Kensi's unusual nickname. "Fern? I bet there's a good story behind that."

Kensi chuckled softly. "It is, but I will let my rather annoying partner tell it."

When she stepped in front of him, she suddenly felt Jericho's strong hand wrap around her forearm. But his touch was gentle, not threatening, as he gently spun her around. She quickly looked up into his deep green eyes and saw a tenderness there that he had kept well hidden during his briefing.

"I hope I'm not being too forward Agent Blye, but I need to tell you something and I hope I'm not speaking out of turn ..." He hesitated a moment, letting go of her arm and his hand fell to his side.

She returned his gaze and tried to be a bit more friendly toward the new member of their team. "Please, call me Kensi."

"Okay ... Kensi. There's something you need to know."

"What is it Jericho?"

Taking a deep breath, Jericho's voice dropped so that even if someone else was around, only she would hear him.

"I knew your father."

* * *

...


	11. Reflections

**A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to update ... my laptop blew a gasket - lost the hard drive and the internet at my house has been intermittent for the last few weeks. I've been using my wife's iPad but it takes longer to type and proof the chapter. So, again, so sorry. **

**This is my longest chapter yet as a peace offering to make up for the delay.**

**Thanks again to all of you who are still there ... means a lot to me.**

...

* * *

**Reflections**

After he had fastened his seatbelt, Deeks put Kensi's SRX in gear and eased up in front of the boat shed where his partner was standing next to the mysterious Jericho. Having just met him and hearing about his unusual connection to Hetty, had left the detective with feeling of curiosity and even a little apprehension about how this entire situation was going to play out. The story about living on the streets of Sarajevo had told of a man who had learned to survive at a very young age and the way he handled Hector was a testament to his determination, no matter the odds.

Another tidbit that was just a little bothersome was how Kensi was reacting to the mysterious N.S.A. agent. The man had impressed her with his artistic abilities and he was a Marine sniper too. _Really? Great ... just great. _Over the past few months, Deeks had felt a drastic improvement in his and Kensi's undefined 'thing', like they were finally starting to really open up to each other and discover if they were destined to be more than just partners and best friends. And now, a tall dark stranger who would give Sam a run for his money in the muscles department walks into the mix and she's standing there and he's touching her arm. Denying that he was jealous would be pointless at the moment, and Deeks briefly wondered if the big man would survive if he was suddenly run over by an out-of-control silver Cadillac SRX driven by a crazed L.A.P.D. detective.

Laughing softly to himself, Deeks felt a little childish at the dark fantasy that fluttered through his mind and decided that murder probably wasn't the best course of action. Jericho was Hetty's 'nephew' and she would never forgive him for running him down with Kensi's vehicle. _Maybe he's gay. _Again, Deeks laughed. _No, with my luck his a former Chip n' Dale's dancer who retired because he won the Nobel Peace Prize for saving little kittens and could no longer go out in public without gobs of women chasing him down. Ugh! ... Get a grip Marty ... get a grip!_

As he stopped the vehicle in front of the boat shed, Deeks watched the interaction between his beautiful partner and the tall man standing next to her. Jericho was saying something and Deeks regretted not taking Kensi's lip-reading pointers seriously. When the other man leaned in close to Kensi, Deeks saw his lips move and then watched as his partner's body stiffened and she took a step back, her face displaying shock and amazement all at once. Whatever Jericho had said, caught her completely off-guard and appeared to have upset her. Deeks' hand was already on the door handle, ready to snatch it open so he could jump out and shoot the man multiple times for whatever he had done to upset Kensi.

Kensi suddenly turned and walked straight to the passenger side where she proceeded to yank the door open and climb in beside her scruffy partner, leaving Jericho standing all alone on the sidewalk, looking rather sad and hurt. Deeks looked at Kensi and saw a completely unreadable expression on her face.

"Kens ... you okay?"

Turning to look into his pacific blue eyes, Kensi saw concern and a little anger reflected back at her. "It's okay Deeks ... _I'm fine_."

Deeks glanced out the window and saw that Jericho was still standing in the same spot, his eyes boring into the concrete at his feet.

"What did he do? If he tried to hit on you, I'll shoot him in his non de plumes." The determination in his words touched her deeply, but she had to do something before he did something incredibly sweet ... and stupid, all at the same time.

"No Deeks ... it's nothing like that ... I promise."

Deeks turned to look into her entrancing eyes, and felt the familiar butterflies in his gut. "So what happened?"

"Jericho ... he umm ... he ..." She just couldn't seem to get the words to come out right and Deeks was getting a little frustrated.

"Come on Kens ... what's going on?"

For a moment, Kensi just stared out the window, her mind a storm of emotions as the words Jericho had spoken to her continued to echo in her mind.

_I knew your father._

Part of her wanted to know more about what that meant, did Jericho know about her father's secret life or did he just know more about Donald Blye, the man who called her his princess? Her fathers sniper journal had told her so much about his inner most thoughts when he wasn't with her and she was a little afraid that Jericho's version may contradict that. That's why she had walked away from him ... it had been a little too much coming from a man she barely knew.

But when she looked across the sidewalk to where Jericho was still standing, she suddenly felt a little guilty. She couldn't see his face, he was looking down at the ground but his shoulders had slumped and he had shoved his hands into his pockets. _Way to go Kensi ... The man tries to tell you something about your dad and you walked away from him without saying a word ... great._

Suddenly, she felt something warm cover her hand and a tingling sensation ran up her arm before she even looked down to see her partner's strong hand enveloping hers.

"Whatever it is ... you can tell me, okay?"

The softness in his voice caused her heart to thump in her chest and it suddenly felt very hot inside her vehicle. As she looked into his eyes, she forgot what she was worried about in the first place. He had that goofy grin that said everything was going to be alright and deep down, she knew that it would.

With a confidence that concealed the nervousness roaring through her, she simply told him the truth. "He told me that he knew my father."

_You have got to be freaking kidding me ... really? Could this day possibly get any better?_

The despair that Deeks saw starting to creep into his partner's beautiful mismatched eyes reminded him that this wasn't about him and his insecurities ... this was about _her_. Suddenly, it didn't matter that Jericho had another connection with Kensi, she needed Deeks to support her and help her wounded heart continue to heal.

"So what are you going to do about that?"

Kensi glanced over and saw that Jericho was slowly making his way over to her SRX, his face still facing the ground. "I'm not sure ... part of me wants to know more about my dad, the other part is scared about what he might say."

"So ... take it slow." Deeks gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "And I got your back ... _always_."

Kensi felt a flush of warmth creeping up her neck and across her cheeks and she found herself squeezing his hand in return. The confidence that he had in her and the way he stood by her no matter what, touched her deeply.

"Thanks Deeks."

They heard the rear door open and then shut softly as Jericho climbed in to the back. He fastened his seat belt and focused his attention on the interesting sidewalk, as if he was trying to comprehend the ratio of cement, gravel, water, and sand that had been mixed and poured there. Deeks glanced up in the rear-view mirror and saw that Jericho had a blank expression on his face, like he had turned off his emotions. Deeks didn't know what it all meant but he knew that he would have to tread lightly.

"Jericho ... where to?"

"Florence Avenue ... The Lamp Light Hotel."

"The Lamp Light? Wow ... was the Bate's Motel closed for renovations?" Deeks attempt to lighten the mood actually seemed to work.

"No, I just felt like slumming it this time around ... live like you _regular_ folks for a bit."

Both Kensi and Deeks chuckled softly and the tension from from just moments earlier began to slowly evaporate. Jericho wiped the corners of his eyes, hoping that the others hadn't seen his little emotional moment. He hadn't expected Agent Blye to react the way she did and he regretted not waiting to tell her what he had.

"Thanks for the lift ... I hadn't planned on trashing my ride earlier but Hector didn't leave me much choice."

Kensi glanced out the window. "That was a pretty bike ... it's a Ducati, right?"

"It _was_ Ducati 1199 Panigale ... and she was _sweet_. 0-60 in less than three seconds ... she'd peel the rubber off the back tire if you weren't careful on the throttle."

Kensi had a huge weak spot for fast motorcycles. The Ducati was one of the fastest production bikes in the world and the one Jericho had been on had been a beautiful deep-red color. Unfortunately, Hector's BMW hold left it a mangled wreck in the middle of the street but the sacrifice of the bike had led to Hector's end.

"It's a shame what happened ... that was a gorgeous bike." Kensi couldn't hide her admiration for the powerful machine.

"Yeah, that one was one of my favorites ... I guess I'll have to get another one next chance I get."

Kensi heard the sadness in the man's voice and started to feel horrible about her reaction earlier but she had no idea what to do next. She was used to the awkward moments with Deeks but she usually just punched him and everything went back to normal. But she had no clue how to deal with Jericho and the more seconds that ticked by, the more lost she felt. The way she had stalked away, leaving him standing alone in front of the boat shed, she was acting like he had said something inappropriate to her ... but he hadn't. In fact, he hadn't done something that most men did when they first met her.

He hadn't checked her out.

She had almost grown immune to the way a man's eyes would quickly glance down when they were first introduced, checking out her 'assets' as Deeks liked to call them. F.B.I. agents, police detectives, suspects, they had all done it. Even Agent Sabatino, although charming and handsome, had let his eyes wander when he was talking to her when he should have been focused on her face and it had made her want to smack him.

Jericho had kept his focus on her eyes and even when she had walked away, she hadn't felt him staring at her backside, and a woman just knew when a guy was doing that. And now, he was sitting right behind her, silently looking out the window, apparently berating himself for upsetting her with what he thought was a kind gesture. She had to say something and quickly. Kensi took a breath and opened her mouth to apologize for her reaction, but Jericho beat her to it.

"Agent Blye? I'm sorry if what I said upset you, that was not my intent."

Deeks and Kensi both reacted to the big man's words. Deeks felt ashamed for wanting to run the guy down and Kensi for running away from a painful memory. Their feelings of shame were clear on their faces but Jericho hadn't looked toward them yet. Kensi decided it was time for her to speak.

"No Jericho, I should be the one to apologize ... you didn't do anything wrong, you just caught me a little off guard." She hoped that he could hear the sincerity in her words.

"Still, I should have waited, got to know you better before dropping that on you and for that, I sincerely apologize."

Jericho's words touched her in a way she wasn't expecting, and she was surprised by his concern for her feelings. She knew that she needed to put his anxiety at ease.

"I think we'll survive, it's just been one of those days, you know?" The soft chuckle from behind them caused the partners to fully relax. "And ... ummm ... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for ... well ... earlier ..."

Jericho was absent-mindedly popping his knuckles when he looked up at her and saw a little pink tint creeping up her face. "Sorry for what?"

"When agents Callen and Hannah were escorting you over to the Challenger and I ... well, when I used my knee to, well, you know ... I'm sorry."

The gentleness in his response surprised the two partners. "Like I said earlier, nothing to worry about."

"But she nailed your _cojones_ man, that had to hurt!" Deeks felt a tug low in his stomach imagining the pain his partner had inflicted on the man sitting behind them.

"I once had a group of Yakuza thugs take turns using me for batting practice with aluminum baseball bats ... so getting hit in the privates isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

_Holy shit! _Kensi wondered what that had felt like and what the result was. "And that didn't kill you?"

"They weren't trying to kill me ... just make me talk."

Deeks glanced up into the rearview mirror and met Jericho's sea-green eyes. "What was the damage?"

When Jericho responded, the tone of his voice was the same as if Deeks had asked him about the weather. "Cracked my spine ... spent three months in traction and another six weeks learning how to walk again."

Kensi and Deeks both felt a great deal of admiration for the man sitting behind them as they began to learn more about him and his seemingly very violent and dangerous occupation. But his tone and demeanor seemed to indicate that he felt it was all just one of the hazards of the job. As the silence grew, Jericho realized that his new acquaintances were suddenly uncomfortable, he knew he needed to lighten the mood.

"Hey, if you can't run with the big dogs ... stay on the porch."

Laughter erupted from the front seat as Deeks and Kensi released the breath they had been holding. The interior of the car lost the tension that had built since they had left the boat shed and they suddenly felt like they had known each other for longer than a few hours. Kensi felt her shoulders relax and she settled into her seat, letting her apprehension about talking the elephant that had followed Jericho into her vehicle.

"So, how did you know my father?" The question came out of her mouth before Kensi even realized it was in her head, but she had to know.

Before he spoke, Jericho took a long, slow deep breath, knowing this was probably a very sensitive subject for the brunette. Her earlier reaction had stunned him and he didn't want to upset her again.

"I met him when I was at Sniper School at Quantico. He was one of our instructors and then we served together out in the fleet."

Kensi spun around as far as she could in her seat, the seatbelt pinching her shoulder slightly, and Deeks could see the smile on her face. She looked happy now, her curiosity piqued.

Jericho picked up on the change in her demeanor but decided that is was probably best to let her direct the conversation. If he was to tell her about her father, he was going to let her ask the questions at her own pace.

"When was this?"

Jericho's answer was swift and sure. "Uh ... nineteen-ninety six ... I was twenty-one."

"My dad would have been about thirty-three then."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Deeks could feel Kensi's excitement building and when he looked over at her, she looked almost giddy. The smile on her face was worth the cost of him having to listen to Jericho share a deeply intimate part of her life. Deeks would never regret seeing his partner happy, so it was a small consolation to just drive through the streets while she learned a bit more about her dad.

Jericho was looking out the window, seemingly taking in every little detail around them, when suddenly turned his jade colored eyes to hers.

"How old were you, if you don't mind my asking?"

Kensi blushed slightly, sensing that he was a little embarrassed by what he had asked.

"I was thirteen."

Deeks lets out a small chuckle, his mind imagining a teenaged Kensi with braces and wearing a Red Hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt with her first crush's name scribbled on the edge of her notebook. She looked over at him and when she read his thoughts in the gleam in his eyes, she punched him solidly in his bicep. She used her knuckles so it smarted a little more than usual.

"Hey! Easy there, sugar bear ... driving here."

"And if you put one teensy-weensy scratch on her ... "

"I know, I know ... you'll kill me with a bobby-pin and feed me to Monty."

The way the two partners seemed to enjoy giving each other a hard time, told Jericho that they were totally comfortable with one another and that they had a strong bond. He had seen some of that bond back in the park, especially when Kensi had jumped in to help her partner. Fighting them separately had been fairly easy, but he knew that together, they would be formidable foes.

Jericho decided to get back to their conversation before Kensi hit Deeks hard enough to really hurt something.

"Agent Blye, I want you to know that your father was an outstanding, 'Gung-Ho' Marine, always squared away, and he was hard on us, always pushing us to be more than we were. He was pretty cool though, he also when to kid around."

Kensi felt a tug in her chest, that was her father alright. He had been tough on her when she was growing up, teaching her the skills that had helped her so many times over the years. All the little things that she had learned that seemed pointless to her had helped her become one of the best agents N.C.I.S. had to offer. She looked over her left shoulder and saw a smile tug at the corners of the big man's mouth at an apparently humorous memory.

With a glint in his eye, Jericho aske, "Did he ever tell you about E-Tool Qualification?"

The way she raised her eyebrows gave Jericho his answer and a sly grin appeared on his face. Marines sometimes had to find ways of entertaining themselves that hopefully didn't involve blowing something up ... well, not all the time anyway.

"We had this Lance Corporal that was one of those guys that thought he knew everything, he was a royal pain in the ... neck. Anyway, we were out in the field working on our Ghillie suits and he was going on about how he was going to smoke us when we went out on our stalks, how he was the best, and that the sniper training really wasn't that hard after all."

Jericho fidgeted quickly with the bandage on his left forearm, scratching at the wound underneath, then he continued. "Well, your father was listening the entire time, he had this knack for being able to appear almost out of nowhere, reminded me of someone else I know. So your dad pops up and starts asking the kid about all the different schools and training he had taken, and the guy goes on and on until I was about ready to kill him myself."

"Your dad asks if he's been E-Tool qualified and the kid just looks like a deer caught in the headlights and then it was on. Your dad took the guy over to a stump, he pulled out a quarter and laid it in the center, and then he handed the guy an e-tool."

Jericho caught the confused look on Deeks' face and realized he had been speaking in terms that anyone not familiar with Marine Corps terminology wouldn't know. "Sorry detective, an e-tool is the little folding shovel every Marine carries around in their field gear. You can fold the blade at a ninety degree angle and use it for hand-to-hand combat and that's where the e-tool qualification comes in."

"So Sergeant Blye stands the guy at the stump and tells him to hit the quarter with the shovel blade. Of course, he does, it's not that hard to do. Now the guy is standing there with this stupid grin on his face and we are acting all impressed and then Blye takes it to the next stage. Now he pulls out a bandanna and tells the kid that he was just warming up and the real test is hitting the quarter when you can't see it."

Kensi and Deeks are both picturing a young Marine standing out in the woods, blindfolded, with a small shovel in his hands ready to kill a defenseless quarter. They knew that this was going to be a good story but they had no idea where it was going.

"So, now the kid is blindfolded, standing in front of the stump, ready to start swinging but then Blye stops him and tells him that he'll hold his cover, that's his hat, so it doesn't fall off his head and get all dirty and messed up."

There's a little pause and the two partners hear Jericho stifle a laugh before he continues. "Now the kid is swinging away at the quarter and Blye is coaching him about how close he is but is still missing it by just a hair, so he just tries harder. After a few more swings, your dad stops him and lets him take off the blindfold."

The anticipation is almost more than Deeks and Kensi can take, but they wait patiently for the finale.

"And that's when Blye hands the kid back his cover ... the one that he had placed where the quarter had been ... and it's trashed with holes all in it." Kensi and Deeks both burst into laughter right along with Jericho and soon they are gasping for air.

Jericho wipes at his eyes. "But the best part is when Sergeant Blye threatens to write the kid up for being out of uniform."

By the time the laughing stops, Deeks' ribs are aching, Kensi is wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, and Jericho feels like he may have found some people who could be great friends. Looking down the street, Jericho sees that they are almost at their destination. "Pull around to the next block and drop me off at the entrance to the alley."

Deeks nodded, easing the vehicle over into the right lane. "You got it."

The sun was almost completely down below the horizon and most of the street lights were already on. Deeks flipped on the headlights and adjusted the rear view mirror so that the headlights of the cars behind him were not so blinding. Kensi usually smacked him when he made any changes to the way she had her vehicle set, but this time she didn't even seem to notice.

In most parts of LA, bright lights and neon signs lit up the store fronts and businesses along most every street. They weren't in one of those parts of town. The neighborhood around the Lamp Light Hotel wasn't high on the city's list of areas that needed huge expenditures when it came to infrastructure maintenance. Most of the buildings and store fronts were either abandoned or in serious need of a big time make over. There were some dilapidated vehicles parked along the streets and the ones that were running didn't look like they would be running for long. Kensi's immaculate SRX stood out like a sore thumb and Deeks only hoped that they wouldn't be here for long. Several pedestrians watched as they drove by, but the expressions on their faces told him that they were seen as only another set of drug dealers tooling around in their hot ride.

"You know, I've worked undercover in this town for years and I have to say, this is probably the worst neighborhood I've ever been in. Why would you ever want to stay here?"

Jericho was scanning the area as the vehicle began to slow. "Around here, no one looks you in the face, no one talks to the cops, no one pays attention ... you can disappear here and no one would ever notice."

Deeks hated to admit it, but the secret agent was right. You could run down this street dressed like Bozo the Clown with your hair on fire with a gorilla on your back and no one would give you a second glance. To a man like Jericho, trained to disappear and be invisible, this would be the perfect location to move in and out of, and no one would care.

"After you drop me off, just circle the block, it'll only take me a few minutes to grab my gear."

Kensi looked back at Jericho, a questioning look on her pretty face. He caught her question before she asked and gave her a quick wink before he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the door handle. "Chill Agent Blye, I'm sure I'll be back before your partner scratches your precious Caddy."

Before she could come back with a smart retort, Jericho gracefully slipped out of the vehicle and easily disappeared into the dimly lit alley. Deeks accelerated away, before anyone on the street even gave them a second glance and soon the silver SRX had disappeared from sight.

After they had rounded the first corner, Deeks glanced over at his partner who was looking out the window. He had a question echoing in his mind that he wanted to ask her but he was a little apprehensive of how she may answer. They were partners and a variable had been introduced into their little dynamic that was adding a little bit more tension than usual.

"So, what do you think?"

Kensi turned to the blonde detective sitting beside her. "Think about what?"

Deeks let a sly grin slide over his mouth. "Come on Kens ... you know _what _... or should I say _who._"

"Jericho?"

"_Yes ... _Jericho, who else, what do you think of him?"

Kensi took a short breath before she answered and Deeks suddenly realized that he was holding his. "Too early to tell ... but he seems like a good guy."

"Yeah, but you have to admit, he makes one hell of a first impression." Deeks' breathing returned to normal when she didn't start gushing about him. Deeks knew that it took a good while for Kensi to trust someone and to open herself up to them in return. He kind of hated himself for being jealous of her and the men that she interacted with, but he couldn't seem to help himself. In fact, if Agent Sabatino had made one more move on her, the C.I.A. agent would have gone back to D.C. minus a few teeth. And now, here was another handsome stranger bursting into their little team and he just couldn't help but be a little scared that maybe Kensi would be a little attracted to the other man.

Kensi nodded her head in agreement with her partner as their first encounter with Jericho had left her a little flustered and she had already swore to herself to spend more time perfecting her hand-to-hand skills. Jericho had been right when he had said that it was a good thing he was a good guy, otherwise, she and Deeks may not have walked away from their tussle in the park.

Not thinking how her partner would take her words, she just said what she was thinking. "He most _certainly_ does."

When she heard her partner just grunt at her statement, Kensi smiled to herself knowing that a little green-eyed monster had just arrived. She did have to admit, Jericho was handsome, his features rugged and his hair was almost as long as Deeks'. He seemed to know how to carry himself, he was respectful toward her and seemed to really love Hetty, and that last little fact carried a lot of weight with Kensi. If he was willing to defend their operations manager, that earned him a gold star or two in the trust department as far as Kensi was concerned.

Noticing that her partner had fallen into an uncharacteristic silence as he continued to drive her vehicle around the block, Kensi decided that maybe she should ease his jealousy ... well, maybe a little anyway.

"So, how's your shoulder?"

Deeks had almost forgotten that his arm was still a little sore from Jericho's arm-bar with all the revelations that had happened that afternoon. Rotating his arm in its socket, he felt a slight twinge of stiffness but there was no more stinging pain from earlier.

"It's just a little stiff, no serious damage. How are you? You slammed into me pretty hard."

Kensi did a mental evaluation of her body, noting that her left hip was a little tender but not enough to make her limp. Most every other time that her partner asked if she was okay, she would give him her standard _I'm fine_ and then move on as if nothing had happened, she was still _Bad Ass Blye._ But the tender look that Deeks was giving her, caused her to actually tell him the truth.

"My hip is a little sore but I don't think it's too bad, probably have a good bruise in the morning."

"I know I'll have one ... right where your ass slammed into me."

"Deeks!"

"What? Wasn't that your ass that landed on me while I was getting up from the concrete? Although, I have to admit, you do have a rather fine ..."

_Smack!_

"Hey! Now I have another bruise to add to the list!"

"Awww ... poor baby, I think you'll live."

Deeks gave her his most sultry look. "Does that mean you want to kiss it and make it all better, Sugar bear?"

Kensi turned to make a rather cunning remark or hit him ... she hadn't decided yet, but when she saw the teasing look on his face, she suddenly lost her train of thought. For a moment, she considered answering that, yes, she indeed want to kiss it and make it all better. _Wait ... where in the world did that come from? _The longer she looked into his azure eyes, she more she thought about the sky on a warm summer's day ... her and Deeks at the beach ... her hands on his shoulders ... his lips getting closer to hers ...

"Kens? Kensalinna? You okay?"

Coming back to the present, Kensi blinked her eyes and saw the confused look on her partner's face. "Sorry, it's been a long day, zoned out there for a moment."

Deeks continued to glance over at her as he circled the block once more, his eyes flicking between his beautiful partner and the streets he was driving on. That beautiful woman would be the last thing he saw if she even thought he might scratch her precious Caddy, so he took great care in maintaining a safe speed and keeping plenty of distance between them and any other car on the road.

As they approached the area where Jericho had exited the vehicle, Kensi and Deeks scanned the alley for any sign of the secret agent. For a moment they didn't see anything that would indicate he was even there and Deeks was about to accelerate away and circle the block once more. Suddenly, almost as if by magic, they saw the big man walk out of the darkness right in front of them, two long olive-drab duffel bags slung over his shoulders. Deeks applied the brakes to bring the car to a stop and Kensi popped the door locks. Jericho opened the door and easily slung his bags into the back seat, piling in right behind them before the vehicle could come to a complete stop.

Deeks slipped Kensi's SRX out into the street and they started to make their way toward the Mission. Jericho noted the little awkward silence in the passenger compartment and wondered what was going on between the detective and the agent. He had just met them in person, and even though he had used his considerable resources to obtain basic histories on all of Hetty's team, he was slowly learning the dynamics of how they worked together. He was glad that he was given the chance to ride in with the younger of the two teams and, so far, he was actually impressed with the two of them. He liked them, they weren't stuffy or arrogant like some of the people he had worked with over the years. Even though he hated the situation that had brought him to LA, Jericho was glad he had the opportunity to know them.

"So, what did you two talk about while I was gone?"

Kensi shot Deeks the look that said _one word and I'll hit you again _before she answered for them. "Not much, just partner stuff."

"So, how long have you two been partners?"

"Almost three years." Kensi was surprised at how that statement had spilled from her lips without her even thinking about it. She caught the smirk on her partner's face and knew she needed to add a little more. "Sometimes it seems like an eternity but, eh ... what are you gonna do?"

Deeks smiled at the jab from her, knowing it was all part of their banter and it still warmed his heart. "Yeah, three years of buying Twinkies, Ho-Hos, Snickers, Mr. Goodbars has really put a dent in my budget, I didn't know a person could live on straight sugar intake ... but she's living proof that you can."

"I eat more than just sugar, thank you very much!"

Deeks spoke without taking his eyes off the road, he needed to be focused on driving when she inevitably punched him. "Really, tell me the last meal you had that didn't include some sort of sugary concoction."

Kensi tried to stall him as her mind raced back through her last few meals ... and she realized she was screwed. "Ummm ... "

Time seemed to slow down in the car and Deeks' smile just got bigger and bigger. He glanced up into the rear-view mirror and saw that Jericho was grinning from ear to ear.

"See Jericho, Agent Blye here had a serious addiction and the more you know about it, the less pain she will inflict on you."

Smack!

Right bicep ... dead center of the last spot she hit him.

"Ow! Stop that ... geez!" Deeks reached up and began to massage his aching arm. "I was just starting to get the feeling back, thanks!"

Jericho shook his head at the two partners, thinking that it seemed like they had worked together for more than just three years. It took a long time for two people who were as dissimilar as they seemed to be, to build the kind of report that they had. He could tell that below all of the joking and punches, that they cared deeply for each other; either the result of all the time spent together or because of the life-and-death they faced at each other's side ... or maybe there was something more going on. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught part of the tender way Kensi looked over at the detective as he rubbed his arm. Jericho knew then that these two were more than partners ... more than friends ... something else. What that something else was, he didn't yet understand, but it was funny as hell to watch.

"I think _you_ are the one she enjoys inflicting pain on."

"And that's _after_ I've fed her ... imagine what she's like when she's hungry."

Kensi suddenly felt like she was about to be ganged up on. She wasn't wrong.

"Like a lion that hasn't had any meat in a while?"

"Exactly!"

Kensi whirled around in her seat. "Hey! We've just met but that doesn't mean I won't shoot you!"

"Oh ... I'm shaking in my boots, Agent Blye."

Deeks almost lost control of the car as he laughed hard at Jericho's comeback and seeming fearlessness when it came to tangling with the infamous Bad Ass Blye. Callen and Sam usually just jumped in on her side, leaving Deeks to fend for himself, it was refreshing to have someone on his team for a change.

"Hey Detective Deeks, speaking of shooting, where does Agent Blye shoot her targets?"

The blonde detective's eyes flew open wide. "Uh ... sometimes, depending on her mood," he got a death glare at that comment, "she shoots them ... well, shall we say, south of the border?"

"You mean in the groin area?"

Kensi felt her breath catch in her chest as she whirled on the man sitting behind her. "How did you know that?"

Jericho met her eyes, and cocked his head to the side, giving her a rather meaningful look. "That's what your father and I used to do on the long distance range ... I was wondering if you did the same thing."

Deeks couldn't contain his amazement. 'You mean it's genetic?"

Jericho laughed and Kensi almost drew back to punch her partner but instead, she joined in with him. She looked down at the armrest, her mind, once again, going back to fond thoughts of her father. "I had forgotten about that ... when he used to take me to the range, it was a little game we played ... " Her words faded out as she lost herself in memories from long ago.

"It all started as a stupid bet on the eight-hundred yard line between me and your dad and a couple of other Marines from a different platoon. We started calling each other's shots and the losers bought the beer." Jericho leaned forward in his seat so he was leaning between Kensi and Deeks' seats. "It started with the usual ... right eye ... left ear ... left shoulder ... but then we started running out of spots to shoot and then, well, Blye suggests the groin. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy holding a steady hold-over when your spotter is laughing about which ball you just shot off."

Deeks had to wipe his eyes from laughing so hard ... _again_, and finding out where Kensi's particular shooting habit came from. Kensi ran her hands through her long hair, letting it cascade down over her shoulders, enjoying the memories that Jericho's stories were triggering. Now, no matter what happened, she was glad she had met this strange man who had shared time with her dad and now was sharing it with her.

Jericho caught the way Kensi seemed to be lost in her thoughts. "Those were good times, Agent Blye. Good times."

"Please Jericho, I told you earlier, call me Kensi."

The shaggy detective looked quickly over his right shoulder. "And everyone just calls me Deeks."

Jericho sat back in his seat, relaxing into the feel of a budding friendship with the man and woman sitting in front of him. "Well then, Kensi ... Deeks ... it's a pleasure to meet you both, but I have another question that I hope is okay to ask."

Kensi and Deeks spoke at the same moment. "What's that?"

Folding his hands behind his head, Jericho through the front windshield, scanning the road in front of them.

"Why does Deeks call you _Fern_?"

...

* * *

...

Sam Hannah's black Charger roared along the Hollywood Freeway, its super charged V-8 eating up the highway almost as fast as it was illuminated by the vehicle's headlights. The driver wasn't intending on traveling so fast but the tension inside was almost enough to make him punch something. He looked up into the rear-view mirror and caught the rather bland expression plastered on the face of the small female sitting in the backseat. She hadn't spoken or even moved since they had left the boat shed and Sam was starting to get a little worried. The other cause for concern was sitting beside him in the passenger seat and he was just as silent.

Special Agent G. Callen's eyes were fixed on a point somewhere outside of his partner's car but he was seeing nothing, his mind a storm of memories, thoughts, and confusion. Meeting the man that he had thought was there to kill Hetty had been one thing, finding out that Jericho Steele was, in fact, another of Hetty's rescued orphans was another. Questions that needed to be answered rolled around in his head, but he knew he couldn't ask them without sounding petty or selfish. It was becoming clear that Hetty had spent a great deal of her life finding kids that needed a little help, a little direction.

Callen had known for a few years now that Hetty had been instrumental in the course of his life, from the time he was a small child through his teen years until now. Now that he had met another 'recruit', Callen began to wonder at what Hetty's motivations were and how she decided which kids needed her help and why were they raised so differently.

Letting his thoughts return to parts of his life he had tried to forget, Callen listed off the thirty-seven foster homes he had lived in since he was five. Some had been okay, some not so much, and others ... well, those were the ones he tried to forget about. Luckily, the bad ones hadn't been his home for long and he was swiftly removed and sent to the next one. The longest he had stayed at anyone happened at the age of fourteen when he stayed with the Rostoffs and that was the one he missed the most. He had been close to his 'little sister', Alina and she had taught him Russian but he was only there for three months, it was the only one that had felt like a home.

Listening to Jericho tell of coming to American and being adopted by a loving family had just about turned Callen's guts inside out. Going through life without a place to call home, no family to speak of, no roots, no connections ... left G. Callen with some serious issues with the woman sitting behind him. Only recently had he learned that Hetty had been the one to get him out of Romania and eventually, out of the orphanage and into the foster homes that would take him in for a short time. Doubts plagued his mind about why she hadn't taken him to a loving family, to a place he could call _his. _Part of him wanted to be furious and ask Hetty point-blank why he had been left out and Jericho taken in. Another part knew that despite everything, Hetty had looked after him the best she could and that she never did anything without a plan and a purpose. What all that meant as his mind wrestled with the new revelations, he could only guess.

As if she had read his mind from her seat behind him, Hetty spoke. "Mr. Callen?"

He didn't answer, he just turned his head and glanced over his left shoulder, never looking right at her.

Hetty took a moment and drew a deep breath, knowing that her words would have to be gentle but truthful if she was to make her intentions clear. "I sense that an explanation is in order regarding my actions toward some of the children that have crossed my path over the years."

Callen still didn't speak and Sam tried to focus on the road in front of him, giving the others as much privacy as he could. Hetty watched as Callen's shoulder's tensed and she planned her words carefully.

"During my years in the C.I.A., I encountered many children in many areas of the world. I also met many who needed my help and I did the best I could for each child and each circumstance." Hetty clasped her hands together in her lap, her voice taking on a softer, less stern tone.

"Some of the young ones needed rescuing, some just a little encouragement, and some just a little love. Each child was different and despite the thinking of the time, every child cannot be raised in the same way. I applied this thought process to the way I handled each one that I met."

"You may be wondering why I brought Mr. Steele home with me and found him a family to raise as their own when I left you to grow up in various foster homes. I cannot say for certain which of you turned out better than the other, you are both excellent agents and have, for the most part, achieved more than I ever thought possible."

Callen finally found that it was time to speak and ask a question that had popped into his head at her last statement. "_Achieved_ ... _process_ ... you make it sound like a science experiment."

The silence that followed, told the younger man that he had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Is that it ... we were part of some crazy experiment?" There wasn't much, but Hetty detected the edge of anger to his words.

"In a manner of speaking ... _yes_."

Callen turned completely in his seat, ignoring the pain as the seatbelt dug into his shoulder and hip. The expression on his face clearly indicated that Hetty should continue with her explanation. "In the early seventies, we learned that the Russians were recruiting their agents at younger and younger ages, teenagers and even some as children. They were ofttimes forcibly removed from their families and taken to secluded training camps were they were programmed to be secret agents or even assassins. Someone high up at the C.I.A. thought it would be prudent if we began our own recruiting program but the Congressional Oversight Committee wouldn't approve the funds nor the forced removal of children from their families. So, they came up with 'Plan B'."

"This involved active agents in the field looking for possible prospects and then, if possible, arranging for their observation and training. Orphaned children were the most likely candidates and proved to be the best choice ... depending on the age, we could erase any record that they even existed. In a few instances, these children literally popped up on our doorstep, with no past, no family, nothing."

Sam had tried to stay out of the conversation but he found that he could no longer contain himself. "It sounds cold, but that would be very effective ... there's no past to erase if you don't have a past to begin with."

"Yes, most of these children would have no birth certificate that could be traced down, no family out there somewhere looking for them, no social security number, fingerprints ... nothing that could be used to track them or used against them. The program ran for almost ten years until some politician spilled the beans and all activities were officially discontinued."

Hetty was looking down at her hands, she seemed to be wrestling with what to say next. Callen looked back at her and saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took another deep breath. "Some of us could not completely abandon the children that we had 'recruited' and then steered to the path they were on."

Callen felt his heart tugging in his chest. "I was one of the ones you guided, wasn't I? All those years in foster homes ... you knew about and did nothing! Why Hetty?" Anger and pain were mirrored in his eyes as he looked at her, blinking back the slight sting of tears. "Why did you leave me on my own?"

Hetty raised her eyes and locked them with the younger man. The pain of hurt and betrayal were there, but more than anything, she saw a need for the truth, no matter how painful. "Mr. Callen, sometimes there are scenarios that you cannot prepare yourself to deal with ... "

Callen saw that his mentor's eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she quickly looked away from him. He was hurting, but in that moment he saw that she was hurting as well. In a very uncharacteristic move, he reached out and clasped his hand over hers and gave her a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure her. He felt her tense at his touch, but she soon relaxed and placed one of her hands on top of his.

Hetty seemed to draw the strength to continue from Callen's soft touch. "When I was a young adult, it was discovered that I would never be able to have children of my own, so this 'Plan B' had a certain appeal to me. I was able to meet these children, get to know them, spend time with them, care for them ... _love_ them."

"Too often, I found that I had become too attached to them and I was devastated when we had to part." Hetty puled a small handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped gracefully at her dampening eyes. "So, after a few partings, I decided that when I recruited a child, I would do my best to stay as far away from them as I could ... I would monitor from a distance and step in when only absolutely necessary."

The inside of the car had become quite and still, the occupants completely caught up in this revelation. "I monitored you from afar, Mr. Callen, and I intervened when I thought it was appropriate to insure your safety. I knew it was a hard life and if I had been able, I would have changed that. Circumstances beyond my control kept me from being able to do any more for you ... and for that, I am sincerely sorry."

Callen felt her hand tightening over his and he had to blink away his own tears before nodding gently to her. He started to speak but she cut him off before he could. "But I will say this, you turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself."

A few light chuckles from the front seat helped ease some of the tension and they were all grateful that this appeared to be a chance for healing, and not hurting.

"The reason you are one of the best undercover operators is because you learned at a very young age not to let anyone get too close, how to cover your tracks, and how to be whoever you needed to be to fit in to any situation. It may sound harsh, but your life of hardship made you into the man you are today ... strong, independent, resourceful. If I could go back in time and change things for you, I would. But we are here now, and I am glad to have known the man you are today, regardless of how he came to be who he is."

Hetty's words rang in his ears and in his heart. Callen knew that she had never intended to hurt him or to keep his past from him. And she was right, the past was the past and nothing could be done to undo it or change it. He had to press forward and realize that he was who he was because of his life before. His years with the D.E.A. and then on to the C.I.A., had been filled with great triumphs and horrible failures, but he was stronger and smarter because of all he had been through, the good and the bad.

Knowing that she hadn't completely answered all of his questions, Hetty tapped her fingers lightly on the back of his hand and she smiled brightly when he looked up at her. "You were left to your own devices and basically raised yourself, but when I found Jericho, I was afraid that he wouldn't survive on the streets of Sarajevo on his own for much longer. It is true that he was already very capable and strong, but there had been several street children brought into the hospital I was working in. They had been murdered in the most unspeakable ways, I could not leave him there. When we arrived back in the states, my friends were ecstatic to take him in, I just wish they had lived long enough to see the man he has grown into."

They all fell into a comfortable silence as Hetty's words echoed in their ears and the epic story that she had barely revealed. Callen had turned to look back out the front window, when he suddenly he realized that his hand was still clasped in Hetty's and that he was comforted by the simple gesture.

Sam knew that his partner and friend still had some issues to work out with their operations manager but they had taken several giant steps in the drive from the boat shed. He had learned long ago that Callen's past would always be somewhat of a mystery and even when truths were discovered, they often brought more questions than answers. Sometimes we have to decide to leave the past in the past, to move on and deal with what is right in front of us, instead of focusing on something we cannot change even if we wanted to. Callen didn't choose his path no more than Jericho chose his, holding a grudge now would benefit neither man.

"A wise man once told me that you have to focus on the things you can change, not on things that have already happened, things of the past." Sam spoke softly but his words were loud and clear. "_Move on_ ... focus on today, think about tomorrow, forget yesterday."

Callen glanced over at his partner and friend. "That sounds like a lot of philosophical non-sense ... what idiot told you that?"

Sam's smirk lit up his entire face. "_You_ did ... right after Moe died." He watched as realization dawned on the man beside him and they both shared an embarrassed smile. "It sounded kind of cold at the time and, to be honest, I almost punched you in the face ... but it's true. Change what you can, focus on the now, forget what you can't do anything about anyway. Survival 101."

Callen nodded his head in agreement with his friend's observations, knowing that questioning Hetty's motivations and holding a grudge against a man he just met would do nothing to aid the team in their current situation of keeping Hetty safe.

Callen turned once again to the woman sitting behind him and squeezed her hand once more. "I may not understand everything that you do or why you do them," the sincerity of his words obvious. "I trust you and know that even if it doesn't make sense to me at the time, you have always had my best interests at heart ... and for that, I am grateful."

Hetty's mouth remained closed, she just couldn't find the words to convey what she was feeling. So she just patted the younger man lightly on the back of his hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile. "The world is paved with good intentions, Mr. Callen, but we are still only human and we do fail from time to time."

Seeing that she was having a hard time reigning in her emotions, Callen thought it best to let Hetty know that this wasn't an issue that would harm their relationship and that he understood her a little better now. "The only thing you've failed at is accepting my challenge on the rock wall again. I asked you two weeks ago and you still come up with excuses."

Hetty folded her arms across her chest. "Mr. Callen, I don't make excuses ... I have priorities, commitments, responsibilities ... but if it is a challenge you are still up for, maybe we take a moment a deal with this so you finally get it off your mind."

Sam looked over at his friend, a touch of false concern on his face. "You sure about this G.? You moped for a week the last time she beat you."

"I've been practicing."

"That's what you said the last time and she still smoked you."

"The last time was right after I was exposed to that nerve agent ... my fingers were still a little numb. I'm ready this time, I'm stronger."

"Sure thing ... partner." Sam couldn't hide the chuckle any more.

"Mr. Callen, it's not about strength and practicing, it's about technique and talent ... not brute force." Hetty knew where this was going, she just waited until it got there.

"Fine ... tonight ... OPS ... rock wall ... you and me." Callen shot her a scathing glare but it failed to intimidate the smaller woman, so he added a little more to it. "And this time everyone can watch me beat you, even Jericho is welcome."

Hetty smile slyly and turned her head to look out the window. "I hope you didn't have a big lunch today, Mr. Callen."

"Why would that make a difference?" He asked, having no idea what she meant.

"Humble pie, Mr. Callen. You are about to get your fill."

Sam laughed and shook his head, his partner didn't seem as pleased. Callen turned and looked at the big man, his face rather bemused.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Like you had your eyes closed."

...

* * *

...

Oda Chiyome parked her Red Lexus in the driveway of a what appeared to be a traditional Japanese house on the outskirts of Los Angeles. She locked the vehicle and moved silently across the river pebble path that snaked its way toward the main entrance. Surrounding the house was a smooth stone wall that reached a height of about seven feet and angled slightly back to aid in the shedding of rainwater. There was a rather simple wooden door in the center of the front wall, a small electronic keypad was mounted on the left-hand side.

After she typed in the proper access code, a hydraulic cylinder opened the door softly and when she had passed through, it slowly closed and locked itself. Chiyome was presented with the view of the front garden where small lanterns illuminated the path to the house. Thick cedar trees lined the edge of the garden, the limbs reaching up into the night sky. They were far enough away from the wall to prevent their use for unauthorized entry but Chiyome thought to herself that if she had wanted in, this place wasn't designed to keep her out ... not many places were.

The small pebbles made no sound as the young Japanese woman walked cat-like pass the shimmering Koi pond that was the center piece of the garden. A small water fall ebbed gently over the large grey stones situated around the back edge of the water, giving a natural sound to the area. Lilly pads, Water Hyacinth, and Anacharis filled the center and edges, providing the Koi ample shade during the heat of the day and natural hiding areas at night. Several of the creatures were still active and they moved easily through the water and, as she passed by, Chiyome noted their beautiful gold, orange, and white coloring.

Chiyome noticed instantly that she wasn't alone in the garden, but she maintained her calm demeanor as she climbed the wooden steps that led to the main entranceway. She paused at the _fusuma, _a sliding wood and paper door, knelt and removed her shoes, placing them just to the side of the opening. When she passed into the home, she knelt once more, slid the door closed behind her and slipped on a pair of the soft slippers provided for house guests. Without a sound, she moved to the center of the main room or _ima_, that was walled by more fusuma, and sat cross-legged in front of the small fire pit.

Outside in the garden, several of the motionless shadows slowly came to life and glided toward the house, their black ninjatos slung over their backs. The sound of the wind rustling the thatched roof covered any sound that the shadows made as they eased onto the wooden porches that surrounded the main quarters. Two of the shadows climbed easily to the roof and moved toward the opening at the peak, directly over the fire pit inside. The other four slid open the fusamas on the edge of the walkways and slipped silently inside.

Chiyome was sitting in a relaxed meditative posture, her hands folded gently across her lap, her eyes closed, and her head slightly bowed when the shadows entered the room, her own ninjato placed on the floor at her left thigh. Two fell from the opening in the ceiling, landing silently on either side of the fire pit, two more came from her right, the others from her left. They formed a loose semi-circle around the woman sitting on the floor, their faces obscured by black masks that covered all but their eyes ... eyes fixed on the woman before them.

At the same moment, each shadow reached up and drew their ninjato, the sound of steel sliding on wood reverberated through the room. Each sword moved to a different angle of attack, some high and some low, positioned to strike at the slightest provocation.

Chiyome appeared oblivious, her breathing controlled and even, her hands unmoving in her lap ... until she finally spoke in clipped Japanese.

_"Akihiko ... your approach was excellent but you smell of a whorehouse, bathe better next time." _

One of the shadows expertly sheathed his sword and he eased to his knees on the floor, bowing deeply as he responded in his native tongue. _"Yes, mistress."_

_"Chiyo ... you have improved greatly, your steps are those of a ghost."_

The second shadow copied the first, kneeling on the floor, her head bowed low. _"Thank you mistress."_

_"Etsuo ... use a little less oil on your blade, it won't stick so when you draw your sword."_

"_Thank you very much, mistress." _The tallest of the ninja lowered himself to the wood floor, surprised that his mistress had noticed the small hitch in his sword draw. He solemnly vowed never to disappoint her again.

_"Hachi ... I would not have known it was you except you still favor your left leg. Your injury has not fully healed?"_

The smallest of the figures gracefully lowered herself to the floor, her head low. "_My mistress sees all, but I am fully able to perform my duties."_

_"I have the utmost faith in you; if not, you would not be here."_

_"Yes, thank you."_

_"Katsutoshi ... you are like a coiled cobra, ready to strike. Do not allow your speed to be your undoing; remember, 'We learn little from victory ..."_

_"... but much from defeat.' I accept your words with gratitude, my mistress." _The man's heart leapt at Chiyome's compliment, the first he had ever received from her.

_"Satoru ... you are the serpent in the grass that none see til you strike, I am glad you are here."_

The young man knelt humbly, touched that a woman of her skill had even bothered to acknowledge his presence. "_I live only to serve my mistress."_

Chiyome finally opened her eyes and she gazed slowly over the kneeling forms of her assembled team, calculating in her mind the best way to use each one in the task before her. Each was deadly in their own right, but when they were focused together, they had never met anyone who could stand against them. This Lange woman would not stand long before them, she would fall like all the others that had encountered Chiyome and her shadows.

Chiyome also knew that even with the best preparations, plans seldom went smoothly; everything usually fell apart after the first contact because you could never guarantee how a person would react to an attack. Their target was an accomplished agent and she and her team would be armed, the chances that one or more of Chiyome's team would not escape unharmed was remote. But they all knew that their lives were not their own. Just like the ancient Samurai of feudal Japan, the ninja saw themselves as already dead, their lives given fully to their lords. That made them fearless in battle, because if you are already dead, what is there left to fear?

Bowing her head slightly, Chiyome gave her team her final instructions. "_I will stand first watch as I have some plans to make. Assemble here again at zero two-hundred tomorrow morning, we strike before dawn. The target is still mobile and we will wait until she is at a fixed place. Prepare your gear and look over the target's file once more before you retire"_

All the kneeling figures acknowledged before bowing deeply once more. They rose as if they were one and silently disappeared into the other rooms of the house.

Chiyome remained in her place on the floor, her mind a flurry of plans within plans of how best to approach her target. Having her team assembled brought her a little assurance that their mission would be successful, but she knew that the smallest grain could tip the scales against them. Hearing a soft giggle from down the hallway, she stopped herself from intervening from the nocturnal activities of her younger teammates. She knew that Satoru and Hachi were lovers and as long as their love affair didn't hinder their skills and performance, she would turn a blind eye to them.

As she remained seated, Chiyome let her mind wander, letting the stress of planning the attack fall away. Her thoughts soon went to what she knew was happening on the other side of the house. She had found herself at times longing for human companionship, but years of physical abuse from those she thought she could trust had hardened her to the point where even the slightest touch caused her pain. Her childhood had been one of constant pain and abuse; the men of her family seeing her only as a weak female to use as they saw fit, casting her aside when they were finished with her. This left her cold and hard as stone and in this business, that was an asset. You never got to close to your teammates so it didn't hurt when they failed to return form a mission. You never got close to anyone outside the clan either, so no one to say good-bye too, no one to worry when you didn't come home.

As her memories of pain filled her, she suddenly found a memory that was like a light in a dark cave. Once, almost a decade ago, she had met someone who had made an impression on her and she allowed herself to focus on the pleasant recollection.

She had been about eight-teen years old and she was on one of her first assignments after her long years of training. The Yakuza family her clan worked for, had sent her to one of their false companies to keep an eye on things. She posed as a simple office clerk when she met him. He was a tall American who spoke fluent Japanese and had eyes the color of jade and a smile that was both disarming and cunning at the same time. He was working with one of the money laundering operations, mediating between one of the groups in Japan and another in the United States. Chiyome had tried to avoid him but her boss forced her to interact with the handsome man, showing him the accounting operations and how they kept it hid from the government auditors. He was kind and gentle, showing her the respect she didn't receive from any other man she knew and that had reached her in a way she never thought possible.

They had a rocky start, she had flinched away the first time he had touched her on the shoulder but his calm demeanor had disarmed her to the point she found herself hanging out with him away from work. He even showed her a little Sushi bar that she didn't know existed in the very city she grew up in. They had become friends, the only real friend she had ever had and when his time in Japan came to an end, she was sad to see him go. She never heard from or saw him again, but in that short time, he had shown her what it meant to share time and space with someone who you cared for and who cared for you in return. And even though he was several years older than her, if he had stayed longer, if they had become closer, she liked to think that they may have become lovers, but that was not in the fate's design. Chiyome was destined to be alone, to live alone, and to die alone. She had accepted her fate but part of her still wondered if the man who had touched her heart could have shown her a different world, a different life.

When he had left to go to Australia on another assignment, they had stood at the airport, her hand in his, watching the planes departing and landing. When they called for his flight, he had leaned over and kissed her tenderly on her forehead and, for the first time in her life, Chiyome felt a tug at her heart and let tears fall from her eyes. He hadn't said good-bye, he just whispered in her ear in her native tongue. _"If ever you have need of me, whatever you ask of me, if it is in my power to grant, I will."_

Over the years, Chiyome had come close to searching him out. But her life, her profession, her duty would not allow it. Her life was not one of love, of companionship ... it was of pain and suffering. The life she had lived had erected impenetrable walls around her; that teenaged girl with an open heart ceased to exist many years ago. So she tucked the thoughts of the tall American with the beautiful eyes away into the back of her mind, and bought the darkness to the front. There was a woman close by who was to die soon and Chiyome vowed silently on the honor of her ancestors, on her very life, that the Lange woman would die by her hand.

Honor was all that she had left now. It was the only way she knew how to live.

Live for honor.

Kill for honor.

Die for honor.

To the Japanese woman from Edo, it was all the same.

...

* * *

**Read and review please. Let me know how I'm doing and if it all still makes sense.**

**Semper Fi**

**JS**


	12. Legolas

**Legolas**

_In the gymnasium ..._

Tired muscles ached, sweat rolled down the middle of his back, and yet, Special Agent G. Callen didn't seem to feel anything at all. His mind simply could not process what his eyes were seeing, it was just too unbelievable. He had tried his hardest, used all the moves that his partner had yelled up at him, but nothing had helped. He felt the burning in his lungs as his body tried to intake more and more oxygen and deliver it to his sore muscles. His fingers were almost numb from clinging to the small oddly shaped outcroppings built into the side of the rock wall that hung at the back of the gym in the old Spanish mission. His legs and feet burned after the exertion he had put them through as his toes dug into the tiny ridge he was standing on. Sweat stung at his eyes as they stared unblinking at the image before him.

She had done it again.

Not ten feet above him, Hetty Lange easily pulled herself up the last foot of wall and gently rang the little bell hanging there. Her face was blank as she turned and looked back down at her competition whose mouth had fallen open as he stared up at her.

"Mr. Callen?"

He didn't answer ... he couldn't. Callen's mind hadn't been able to format a coherent thought since she had passed him at about the sixteen foot level, eclipsing him without so much as a side-ways glance.

"Are you quite alright Mr. Callen? Do you require medical attention? A cat seems to have stolen your tongue."

Callen relaxed his shoulders, allowing his body to droop slightly, defeat clearly etched on his face. Shaking his head, a small smile appeared and he did his best to take it all in good humor. _When will I ever learn to keep my big mouth shut! _He thought to himself as the chuckles from his rather bemused partner drifted up to his ears.

"I tried to warn you G., Hetty's unbeatable on this thing." Sam had just walked in from outside where he had called Michellle to let her know that he wouldn't be home that night.

Callen looked down at his friend, who seemed smaller from that height. "Maybe you should give it a try ... tell me what you _really_ think."

"Oh no, you're not going to pull me into your need for competition. I'm perfectly fine right here, my feet flat on the ground."

"And here I thought you S.E.A.L.s were tough!"

Sam folded his arms across his chest, they were still impressive, even at that distance. "Easy there friend, watch what you say about the S.E.A.L.s."

Callen just laughed softly as he pushed away from the wall, the counter-weighted cables easy him down to the floor where Sam helped him out of his safety harness. "I know you S.E.A.L.s are tough ... but I don't think they'd stand a chance against Hetty."

Sam went to make an argument, but as he thought about his friend's statement, the more he realized that he might be right. "You have a point there ... just don't tell her I said that."

"He won't have to Mr. Hannah and I won't say anything either."

Hetty pulled herself up to the top of the rock wall and let her legs dangle over the side, her hands resting on the safety bar. Looking down at the two men standing below her looking up with surprised expressions on their faces, she couldn't help a sense of pride at her accomplishment but she also knew ho sensitive her agents could be when bested in competition.

Leaning forward so that she could look directly at them, she decided that a little timely positive reinforcement was needed. "You have improved Mr. Callen, it took me longer to catch up to you than I anticipated."

_"Catch up to you? _I don't understand?" Sam finished unfastening the last buckle on the harness and he turned to look at his partner, who had a defeated look on his face.

"She gave me a head-start." His answer was just above a whisper.

"A ... a _what?"_

Callen had to swallow every bit of pride he had left. "She gave me a ten second head-start."

'And she still beat you?!"

"Yep."

Sam starting laughing and the more he thought about it, the harder he laughed. Finally he was bent over double, his arms squeezing his sides, tears running down his cheeks.

Callen just stood beside him, hands on his hips, his face blank and expressionless. "I'm hitting the showers ... see you up in OPS."

As the door leading from the gym closed, Sam looked up at Hetty who was still perched on the top edge of the wall. He cocked his head toward the showers as he placed the safety harness in its place on the wall. "I don't think he's ever going to quit challenging you Hetty, he's got too much pride."

Hetty shook her head from side to side. "Sorry, Mr. Hannah, but you are wrong."

"Wrong about what Hetty? G. won't ever stop trying to beat you on this wall."

Hetty turned and eased herself over the side, her small body floating slowly to the floor as the cable played out from the pulley-rachet systems that maintained a safe ascent or descent. When her feet touched to floor, she unsnapped the d-ring from her harness walked over to stand beside the large man. "That's not what I meant, it isn't pride that pushes him."

Sam leaned against the wall and watched his mentor as she hung her harness beside the other ones. "So, what is it that makes him like that?"

"Stubbornness ... he just will not quit. That's a trait that I admire in him ... in all of you."

Running his hand over the smooth skin of his shaven head, Sam nodded in agreement but was quick to point something out. "You're right ... but sometimes you have to know when to quit."

Hetty turned and stood toe-to-toe with the big man. "In the little things, I agree that there comes a time to let some things go." Her voice turned serious and somber. "But in the work we do ... life and death ... does there ever come a time when you would quit?"

Sam didn't even have to think before he answered. "No ... _never_."

Patting his softly on his forearm, Hetty smiled brightly up at him. "Exactly. You, Mr. Callen, Mr. Beale, Ms. Jones, Ms. Blye, Mr. Deeks and even Mr. Steele all have some of the same characteristics: you are all fiercely loyal, brave, fearless ... but the one trait that binds all the others together is the fact that you all will not quit, no matter the odds stacked against you."

Sam eased himself off the wall and began to walk across the gym floor, Hetty falling into step beside him, her small arm linked with his bulging one. "And that, Mr. Hannah, is what makes this team nigh unbeatable."

...

* * *

...

The Spanish Mission was almost empty by the time Deeks pulled his partner's silver SRX into the space beside Sam's Charger. He had barely finished turning off the engine when the passenger side door shot open and a rather frustrated Kensi Blye bailed out of the vehicle. She didn't even pause as she slammed her door shut and marched quickly across the parking lot and through the wooden double-doors, disappearing inside the old building.

"Come on Kens ... Kensi!" Deeks hopped out as fast as he could but his fast-footed partner had already disappeared from sight. He walked around to the passenger side of the car as Jericho eased his door open and climbed out to stand beside the blonde detective. The agent from the N.S.A. placed his duffel bags on the asphalt at their feet and just stood there, his hands locked behind his back in modified 'parade rest' position.

Deeks shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, shaking his head slightly. "Well, I honestly didn't think she would get _that_ mad."

"She told you to knock it off when you started listing all the nicknames you use on her ... although I thought 'Kiki' was kind of funny." Jericho laughed softly to himself remembering how Deeks had started rattling off his list of nicknames for Kensi after he explained where the name 'Fern' had come from. He didn't think that the pretty brunette was really mad at her partner, more like just really annoyed for the moment.

With his stomach in his throat, Deeks knew that he had to go inside and face the one woman on the planet that scared him as much as Hetty did. Summoning what little courage he had, the lanky surfer took one hesitant step and then another.

"Come on Jericho, I'll introduce you to the 'Wonder Twins'."

Jericho grabbed his bags and fell in beside the nervous detective but he stopped walking when they came to the ornate wood doors. "Hey Deeks?"

"Yeah?"

"Tread softly my friend ... tread softly."

Deeks had his hand on the brass door handle but he paused when he went to pull the door open. "I'm not too worried about it ... Kensi's ... well, she's ... _complicated_."

Jericho nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, I get that. I just don't want to see you ruin a good thing."

Deeks' tongue stumbled all over itself as he blurted out. "_Thing_ ... what _thing_? There is no _thing_."

Jericho reached out with one of his thick arms and grabbed the edge of the door as Deeks pulled it open. It stopped immediately and the detective, scared of where the conversation was going, pulled harder. All he succeeded in doing was making his arm hurt.

"Really Detective? You have got to be kidding me ... I may be new around here, but even a blind man could see that you two have a 'thing'."

Deeks decided that since he couldn't run away from the man beside him, he would just freeze and maybe Jericho would just pass him by, like a mouse trying to lose a cat. This was not the subject that he liked to discuss, not with anyone ... especially with someone he just met.

Jericho watched the younger man tense up and knew instantly that this was a very sensitive topic that hadn't really been addressed by anyone on the team. Trying to be a little more positive_, _Jericho tried to help the nervous detective out.

"Relax Deeks, I'm just stating the obvious, and I didn't mean to tread on a touchy subject. If I spoke out-of-place, forgive me, but my only thoughts are for Hetty's safety and the safety of the team protecting her. I like to know the dynamics of the team I am working with and if there is something that may upset that balance ... I need to know."

Deeks lowered his eyes to the ground before he turned toward the agent. "It's no big deal ... it's just ... well ..."

When he saw the young man hesitating, Jericho reached over and patted him gently on his shoulder. "It's okay Deeks. You've just met me ... no need to get into any really _deep_ conversations."

For some reason, having someone like Jericho from outside their team to talk to made him feel that maybe he could talk about certain things. It was nice to have an outside perspective ... someone that didn't have a history with himself or Kensi. Callen and Sam were great but they were Kensi's unofficial 'older brothers' and they tended to be a little on the protective side. Eric and Nell were wrapped up in their own little back-and-forth 'thing' and didn't seem really grasp all the complexities that made up the Deeks/Kensi dynamic. And Hetty? Well ... she was just Hetty ... who knew what she was thinking.

Feeling his heart thump in his chest, Deeks tried hard not to say the words that popped into his head, but he was tired of holding it all in.

"That's just it ... no one really wants to talk about it." He released the door and Jericho let it pull itself closed as they both turned and just looked back out into the parking lot. Deeks reached up and ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his turbulent thoughts in line. "Sam and Callen make fun of it sometimes, Hetty acts like it isn't a big deal and Kensi ... well ... Kensi ... she's ..."

"_Complicated." _Jericho finished for him.

Deeks nodded his head and folded his arms across his chest, surprised that the man he had just met seemed to understand what his mind and heart were both thinking. "And you waltz in here with your red Ducati and super-ninja-kung-fu-fighting and start talking about her dad and Marine sniper stuff ... and it's really bugging me." The words had spilled out before Deeks realized he was actually speaking out loud. "Aww crap dude ... I'm sorry, that came out before I could tell myself to shut up."

Jericho laughed softly, shaking his head at the way the blonde surfer was acting. "It's cool Deeks, really." It surprised him when Deeks actually looked up at him, deep blue meeting intense green. Jericho took a step back, his hands hooked in his pockets and nodded back toward the mission. "I saw the way she looks at you, even when you're pissing her off, and believe me, you have nothing to worry about."

"So you _are_ gay."

Jericho chuckled out-loud. "_Noooo ..._ I am not gay. I'll admit, Kensi is an attractive, beautifully strong woman," He could actually see Deeks' body begin to tense up, "but I'm already in a relationship. And even if I was available, I'd like to think I'm not the type of man who would barge in here and step all over someone else's ... 'thing'."

_Beautifully strong ... _yep, that was Kensi. Deeks was actually stunned to the point he couldn't speak but his mind was running wide open. _I wish other men would be as considerate ... especially that smart-ass Sabitino. But why is this so hard for me to talk about with those closest to me ... especially Kensi? _

Almost as if he read his mind, Jericho spoke. "I guess that it's hard to talk about this with Kensi, but let me give you a bit of advice if you don't mind?"

Deeks just nodded.

"Don't wait too long to tell her how you feel ... if you have feelings beyond partners and friends ... _tell her."_

Swallowing the lump that had materialized in his throat, Deeks squeaked out. "I don't thing I'm ready to do that yet."

Jericho spoke up boldly. "What the _hell_ are you waiting for? Our lives are short enough as it is and then some of us end up in an occupation that tends to make it even shorter ... our lives are a vapor, here one moment and gone the next."

Deeks wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a tinge of sadness and pain in the other man's words. There was loss there ... a hurt that was hidden deep inside the tough agent with the deadly skills. Maybe one day he would find out just what the other man was hiding behind the tough exterior. They were well on their way to building trust and Deeks was now glad this stranger had joined their little team.

Jericho had gone quiet for a moment, like he was catching his breath and with a heavy sigh, he went on, his voice softening. "I promised myself long ago that I won't live with regrets and I won't die with them either." He saw the question on the other man's face before he asked it. "_Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero."_

Deeks' Latin was a little rusty, but his one he knew like the back of his hand. "_Pluck the day, put no trust in the future." _

A huge smile formed on Jericho's face. "Seize her now Deeks ... don't wait. We are not promised tomorrow ... our next heartbeat could be our last."

The words floated in the air for a moment and then seemed to crash into him with such force that Deeks actually felt his heart skip a beat. He knew this, he had lived it for far too long. He had lost friends and co-workers on the LAPD, here at NCIS, he always noticed when some one died that was his age or younger ... _What am I waiting for ... a freaking invitation? How many close calls have we been through in the last three years ... the last three months? _

Although, literally seizing Kensi would more than likely get him kicked somewhere he wouldn't appreciate ... he would have to follow Jericho's advice and _tread softly_. Deeks took a moment and just stared up at the darkening sky, his long blonde hair falling on the back of his neck. His eyes fell on a pinpoint of light, the first star visible in the sky and he took it as a good omen.

Jericho knew that the detective was lost in his own thoughts so he just looked up in the sky along with him. They stood there for a few moments when Deeks let a huff of air before turning to face the other man. "So, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

They began to make their way back over to the doors where Jericho had laid his bags, Deeks walking ahead and pulling the doors open. "Just how many languages do you speak?"

Jericho paused as he hoisted his bags onto his broad shoulders. "Hmmm ... actually I've kinda lost count."

"Really?"

"Well, let's see ... there's the basics: Spanish, French, Italian, German, Russian," Jericho laughed softly as he saw Deeks counting off on his fingers. "And Czech, Romanian, Hebrew, Arabic ... uhhh, oh yeah: Japanese, Mandarin and a little Cantonese. I'm currently studying Korean so I'm pretty good at that too, if I say so myself."

Deeks' brain was almost numb from what he was hearing. "Don't forget Latin."

"Oh yeah ... and Latin."

Jericho noticed that while he was listing off the languages, Deeks had stopped walking along with him into the mission. He turned to find the detective with a rather perplexed expression on his face.

"Deeks ... what is it?"

The shaggy blonde looked at the secret agent. "I ran out of fingers when I was counting off ... that's never happened before when someone listed their languages. Even Hetty can't speak that many. How do you do it?"

"I don't really know, it just seems to come naturally to me, kind of like a photographic memory ... except with languages. Weird huh?"

Deeks stopped trying to add the numbers up on his fingers, he had lost track anyway after Hebrew. He started walking again, his shoulders slumped rather dejectedly and his voice low when he spoke. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Yeah, believe it or not, there is."

_If he says 'walk on water', so help me ... I'll get Kensi to knee him again. _"What is it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Surfing. I get to go to some of the best surfing spots on the globe but ..."

"What?!" Deeks' voice echoed through the old Spanish mission, the few agents still in the building turned quickly to see what the commotion was. Seeing it was the resident LAPD liason and they never knew exactly what he was up to, they quickly returned to their duties. "I mean ... _really_?"

"Really. I've always wanted to learn how, but every time I go out on a board, I just embarrass myself."

_I can do something you can't do .. I can do something you can't do ... _sing-songed loudly in Deeks' head and he almost broke out into a 'Happy Dance' right there in the middle of the floor. It was short-lived though as Deeks thought of how genuine and candid Jericho had been just a few moments ago with his advice about the 'thing' with Kensi. Slightly ashamed of his attitude, Deeks tried to make up for it.

"You know, I could help you with that."

"What? You surf?"

Deeks' smile would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "All my life, and I could teach you."

"Really?" They had stopped at the base of the stairs and Jericho seemed right at home in the strange surroundings.

"Yeah, I've even given Kensi a few lessons." Deeks eased up the steps toward operations, hoping that's where Kensi was.

Jericho paused after two or three steps. "Uh huh."

Deeks turned and looked down at the secret agent. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No ... really, what?"

"How in the world did you talk her into that?"

Deeks shrugged his shoulders. "She wanted to learn, and it was fun." The knowing look on Jericho's face told Deeks exactly what the other man was thinking. "Really? Sorry to spoil it but she wore a wet suit."

"I bet you enjoyed that too."

_I sure did ... more than you would ever believe. _As pictures of Kensi in her tight wet-suit danced through his head, Deeks spun around and headed back up the stairs. "Come on Jericho, I'm sure Kensi has cooled off enough for me to be in the same room with her and the Twins are probably dying to meet you."

Muttering softly to himself, Jericho took the steps two-at-a-time behind the long-legged detective, a silly smirk plastered on his face.

"Bazinga!"

...

* * *

...

Kensi had marched right through the bullpen and practically ran up the stairs to operations, the few agents that comprised the night shift gave her a quick glance before turning back to their duties. They knew the fiery brunette's moods and giving her a wide berth was usually the best idea until she calmed down. A few of them wondered if her mood this time had anything to do with the agency's LAPD liason, like it usually did.

A few moments later, their suspicions were confirmed when the lanky detective walked in with a tall stranger. A few of them froze as the unknown man strode into the mission, their eyes searching for a threat but the way the detective was interacting with him, there was nothing to worry about.

The agents noted the way the man with intense green eyes scanned the area as well, his gaze flashing around the building, taking in all the structural features, choke points, escape paths, lines-of-sight ... his mind already planning what he would do if all hell suddenly broke loose. He also took note of everyone in the room: which ones were sitting and which were standing, which hand they were using, where their firearms were, if they had a secondary weapon, and if they were a threat or not. Years of training and experience had taught Jericho to never assume anything ... even when you thought you were in a safe place, be on your guard ... always.

As the sliding doors opened, the two men found Kensi standing right behind the teams' two analysts who were gesturing wildly at each other as Kensi tried to explain something to them. When they saw Deeks and Jericho enter the room, they all fell silent and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Nell and Eric slowly spun around in their seats as the detective and his companion stopped in front of them.

Kensi looked right past Deeks, ignoring his puppy-dog eyes that were begging for forgiveness for whatever he had done and nodded at Jericho. "Nell Jones ... Eric Beale, let me introduce our mystery man, Jericho Steele."

Eric held up his hand and Jericho shook it firmly. "Jericho, nice to meet you."

Jericho nodded and turned slightly so the small woman next to Eric could also shake his hand. She took her time as she craned her neck to look up at the taller man. "At least we know who the ninja is now."

Jericho gently took Nell's much smaller hand in his, and gave her a gentle squeeze before letting his hand fall to his side. "Ninja?"

"Blame my partner, he called you that when we watched the video of you intercepting Hetty's tail last night." Kensi sort of glanced at Deeks as she spoke, but not really. She appeared to still be a little irked at him, but she hadn't moved away from him as he came to stand beside her.

She wasn't really that mad a Deeks, he had done much worse in the past and probably would again. In fact, by the time Jericho was laughing at all of her nicknames, she was having a hard time not laughing herself. How in the world could her idiot of a partner be so creative? She had tried giving Deeks various names but 'Shaggy' had been the only one that stuck.

Kensi, though, was a different story; there was _Fern_, by far her favorite but she couldn't tell him that; _Kiki_, the stripper name, now that one really annoyed her; _Kensalina_, she didn't even know how he came up with that one; _Sugarbear, _he had called her that when they were undercover as Justin and Melissa; _Honeybun,_ that one started after an argument about how much sugar she was ingesting in one day; _Wikipedia_, well duh, that one was self explanatory; _Princess, _her father had called her princess; _Pookie ... Sweetums ... Angel-bear ... _the list just seemed to go on and on sometimes.

Then there was _Kens. _It wasn't that he was the only one who called her that, it was, after all, just the shortest form of her name. Callen, Sam, Nell, and even Eric had used that form of her name, so it wasn't that. It was the _way_ he said it. It was always like it was a cherished way of calling out to her. His inflection was different from any one else who used it, and it always made her heart race just a little faster, like when she got that double-chocolate espresso with the chocolate sprinkles on top.

And that's what had triggered her dash from the car ... he had listed _Kens _last and the way he had said it ... well it had melted her heart. So much emotion, energy, and strength were bundled into her little name when he spoke it, she just had to get out of that car before he saw how it affected her. She hadn't been prepared and a response would have just embarrassed her more than she already was. So when the vehicle had stopped, she had made a run for it, she needed a little space to regroup and making Deeks wonder if she was really pissed at him was all part of the little dance they liked to ignore ... their "Thing".

Kensi let her eyes fall on her partner, the man who could make her so angry that she actually saw stars, and the man who she trusted more than any other person on the planet. She hid the silly grin that was about to break across her face as he fidgeted with the back of Eric's chair ... _was he ever still? _

"Yeah, you really put some moves on those gang members." Deeks folded his arms across his chest as he relaxed a little more as he tried to gauge his partner's level of anger. She could get madder faster than anyone he knew, but she also could soften quickly too. Usually when the one aggravating her was himself.

A look of sadness fell on Jericho's face but as soon as it appeared, he forced it away. "Yeah, they were just a bunch on messed up kids, I didn't need to hurt them too badly, just get them off Hetty's tail and gather some information." His voice softened at the end and he let his eyes fall to the floor. "A lot of good it did them, they're still dead."

The others didn't know what to say at that point and the mood had suddenly shifted from excitement at meeting someone new to sadness at the destruction an evil man from Columbia had wrought on that L.A. freeway. For a moment, no one spoke and it soon seemed as if the effects of the bombing were still reverberating through the team.

Nell decided that the silence should end. "Callen, Sam, and Hetty are in the gym ... another rock-wall challenge."

"Let me guess ... Callen lost again." Deeks couldn't help but smile at the team leader's failure, now he had something else to pick on the older man about.

"What do you think?"

"So, how quickly did Hetty do it this time?" Kensi had the same expression on her face as her partner did.

"Not as fast as usual, but she did give him a head start this time." Eric nodded toward the security camera that was still cued to the back wall of the gym.

Deeks could not contain his excitement. "A head start? Ouch."

"Yeah, I think that's what Sam said too." Nell brought her hand up to cover her soft giggle.

Kensi turned more toward the screen, her arm brushing gently against Deeks'. "So where are they now?"

"Callen headed to the showers, Sam was headed this way, and Hetty is ..." Eric didn't get to finish before Jericho spoke form the back of the group.

"She's standing right behind me."

The others turned around and there, three steps behind Jericho, stood their leader, her hands clasped in front of her body.

Deeks looked up at Jericho. "How did you know she was there?"

"I smelled her perfume when she entered the room," Jericho turned to face Hetty, his arms folded across his chest, "And I always know when she is near me ... always."

Hetty took a few steps forward and walked right into Jericho's open arms. "My boy, it's good to see that there is at least one person that I can not sneak up on, keeps me on my toes."

The rest of the team members just watched the uncharacteristic actions of the operations leader. "It is really good to see you too, I didn't intend on being away for so long this time but, well ... you know how it is."

"Indeed." She stepped back from him and resumed her former stance, her hands clasped in front of her again. "And now that you have met the rest of our little team ... Mr. Beale, Ms. Jones ... please have the security team clear and secure the safe house Mr. Granger specified earlier. Mr. Steele and I have some matters to discuss and the team will need to requisition the needed weapons and equipment. Mr. Callen and Mr. Hannah will be accompanying myself and Mr. Steele there this evening."

Deeks and Kensi spun around together, reading each other's mind. "We're coming too."

Eric and Nell noted how that the two agents seemed to be doing that a little bit more often than before, like they were in sync with each other in a way that conveyed a deep connection. Deeks turned and looked at Kensi, his mouth opening to speak but she beat him to it.

"Jinx." Then she slugged him at about one-quarter power in his arm.

"The more the merrier I say, and ... Owwww!"

Hetty just shook her head. "That will not be necessary, you two should probably ..."

"Not this time Hetty." Deeks stepped up before Kensi could argue the same point. "When they mess with one of us, they mess with all of us ... we're going." It was a statement that would be pointless to argue.

Hetty glanced down at the floor. "Very well." She spun around and walked briskly toward the double doors, Jericho at her side, but before she passed through the opening, she paused and turned sharply, a small smile on her face. "And ... thank you."

Deeks turned to Kensi, a devious smirk on his face. "Looks like were going to be bunk mates Kensalina, and if you are nice to me, I'll let you have the right side this time."

Nell looked over at Eric and mouthed the question "_This time?_" Eric just shrugged his shoulders not wanting to get into that conversation with the agents in question standing right there.

"You will _let_ me have the right side? I'd rather sleep with Monty."

"That can be arranged, although he likes to hog the covers just like you do."

"Deeks?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"Shut. It."

Deeks realized he was pushing that invisible boundary once again. "You got it, Baby-bear"

Kensi was about to scream at him when the doors opened and Sam walked into the room. He took one look at the younger agents who looked like they were about to go at it right in the middle of ops and decided he should have taken his remaining vacation days a little sooner. "What is it with you two? I feel like I got to either keep you from killing each other or I've got to hose you down to cool you off."

The look exchanged between the two partners was priceless, like two kids caught with their hand in the cookie jar. When they tried to speak, it came out garbled.

"What? No ... er ... we are um ..."

"Look, I really don't want to know. Passed Hetty in the hall and she said you two are coming with us to the safe house. Callen's meeting us in the armory, so let's just go." Sam was shaking his head as he spun around and headed back out the doors.

Kensi elbowed her partner as they hurried to catch up with Sam. "What is it with you?" The exasperated tone in her voice caused Deeks to really stop and assess the situation. When Kensi turned to see why he was no longer in step with her, a lump formed in her throat when she saw the apology clear in his eyes.

"Sorry, Kens. I didn't mean to make you mad about the nick-names, my mouth seems to be stuck at ludicrous speed and I can't shut it off." His eyes fell to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped up right in front of him, her toes almost touching his. The warmth of her breath caused Deeks to temporarily forget what planet he was on. Kensi had a sharp rebuke in her head when she went to speak, but it died before it ever left her lips. "Deeks, I know you chatter when you're nervous but ... hey ... look at me."

When pacific blue met mis-matched brown, everything seemed to stop for a moment. When Kensi finally found her voice, it was low and soft. "It's okay partner, it's been a long day, and it looks to be a longer night." She reached over and took one of his hands in hers, the mission was almost completely desserted so she let her guard down just a little. Giving his warm hand a soft squeeze, she smiled warmly at him. "But I need you to get your head in the game, for both our sakes ... and for Hetty too. We have to be ready for anything and I need my partner to have my back, okay?"

The soft nod and crooked smiled hid the elation he felt at her gentle assurance of her faith in him. "You got it Kens ... always."

_Oh crap. Always? What does that mean? What are you trying to say Deeks?_

Deciding not to explore what was hidden behind the last word he spoke, Kensi gave his hand one more firm squeeze before she tugged him toward the stairs, a smile on her ruby lips. "Come on knucklehead, we've got work to do."

"Right behind you, General Kenobi!"

Squeezing his hand a bit harder, Kensi tried not to yank him off his feet as they walked down the steps. "Deeks ..."

"Right. Shutting it."

...

* * *

...

Hetty moved behind her antique desk and eased into her soft chair. Jericho waited until she was seated before sitting down in front of her, the wooden chair creaking with his weight. For a few moments they sat motionless, silently just enjoying each other's presence and company. Glancing over her shoulder, Jericho caught sight of something he hadn't seen in years.

"So, you left the game in play?"

Hetty glanced quickly over her right shoulder to the chess board sitting behind her in the Japanese cabinet. She stood quickly and moved the board from where it had rested for the past few years, placing it in the center of her desk, careful not to jostle any of the pieces. "Mr. Steele, you, above all others, should know that the game is never over until the last move. How much time passes before the game ends ... well, that is often left to the fates, is it not?"

Jericho smiled and shook his head. "Yes, of course. I'm just surprised that you would wait this long."

"Yes, it has been some time since we started, but I had faith that you would turn up once again." She look over at him from under her glasses. "And I do believe it was your move."

"I wish it was under better circumstances but it is good to be here." Jericho eased forward in his chair, letting his tired muscles relax for the first time in days as he focused his mind on the remaining game pieces. He made quick scan of the layout and then looked up at Hetty. "I thought I had both of my Bishops."

Hetty smiled warmly. "No, my Queen took your Bishop when you tried Jansen's Manuever during our last time together."

"Oh yeah, forgot about that."

"Liar ... you never forget."

"Had to try." Jericho turned his eyes back to the game, his mind quickly calculating possible moves and Hetty's counter-move.

Watching the man sitting across from her thinking about his first move, filled Hetty with a sense of happiness that she hadn't felt in quite some time. She smiled softly as she watched him place a finger on King's Knight but he seemed to think better of the move he had planned and removed his hand and folding his arms across his chest. "You tried to sucker me in with Kroaski's Trap ... nice."

They sat in relative silence for several minutes, content to just be in each other's company after so many years apart. Hetty motherly instincts caused her to not only love the man with her, but also to be proud of who he had become, and it touched her that he had come just to protect her. The way the other team members had eventually accepted his presence filled her with a peace and confidence that she rarely enjoyed.

"I am glad you are here Jericho," she said it warmly and the smile that formed on his face told he was feeling the same. "And I think my team is as well." She had wanted to ask what he thought of them and many other questions, but right now, she was just glad he was there and in one piece.

Jericho's ability to sense what someone was thinking, even Hetty, caused him to answer her without having to hear the question out loud. "I have to say that I am impressed with them, and you know how hard it is to impress me. You have assembled one of the best teams I have ever met, congratulations."

Hetty's pride in the compliment was short-lived when she remembered that her team was in danger because of her. She pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Yes, they are the best and you must promise me that you will protect them as you would me."

"Hetty ..."

"No Jericho." Her tone was firm and resolute. "You must protect these people as well, they are part of my family and I would never forgive myself if something happened to them because of a threat against me."

Jericho remained silent for a moment, letting Hetty's words tumble around in his mind. He knew that Hetty's family was not made up of blood kin, but of lost souls she had found and rescued the best she could. Looking over the wood desk at the woman who he considered his only family, he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. Hetty demanded the most loyalty from those who served under her, but she also gave it in return. She would never abandon her team, and she would willing die in their place ... without hesitation ... without regret.

Looking up, his eyes locked with hers and he nodded in agreement. "Okay ... I'll do my best."

"That's all I've ever asked my dear." Now Hetty relaxed and sat back into her own chair. "So, now tell me what you think about my team?"

Jericho chuckled softly as he began. "Callen is a born leader, he commands respect because he has earned it ... they would follow him anywhere. He's a bit of a lone-wolf, tends to keep things tucked away inside ... makes him a great operator. Sam is dedicated and protective ... like a momma bear protecting her cubs. He knows how to make and execute a plan with little or no warning. Eric and Nell have their eyes and ears plugged into every intelligence gathering system out there ... and they know what to do with the information when they get it."

He paused for a moment before he continued on to the junior field agent and her partner. "Kensi is fierce and confident, makes her a great asset in the field and she should never be underestimated. Deeks is carefree and insightful ... probably an excellent undercover operator. He picks up on the little things that the others sometimes miss ... he's like the free-safety on a football team: maybe doesn't make a lot of tackles, but he makes the big plays."

"Impressive. I see that you have read their files ... now tell me what _you_ think."

Jericho nodded and then took a moment to collect his thoughts. "You want me to be honest or do you want me to lie to you?"

"Like you could ever lie to me!" Hetty chuckled softly as she crossed her hands on her lap.

"True, but sometimes an outside perspective may not be what you want to hear."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"True." Jericho's eyes softened. "Your team would do anything for each other, and I do mean anything. They would lie, cheat, steal, kill ... anything for their teammates, and that's a good thing." He paused and took a breath, letting it out slowly. "But sometimes the mission must come first, I don't think your team would sacrifice one of their own if it came to that."

Hetty's tone displayed her dismay. "This team is the best I have ever worked with, there is nothing that they cannot do."

"That's not what I said ... I know they are the best, they wouldn't be here if they were not. What I'm saying is if it came down to a choice between accomplishing the mission or letting one of their own die, the mission may fail." Jericho let the words sink in as he watched the conflict on Hetty's face. "I'm sorry Hetty, but can you honestly say that Deeks would let anything happen to Kensi, or vice versa, even if it meant that the mission could fall apart?"

Hetty remained stoic behind her desk but she contained her emotions, waiting for Jericho to continue.

"They would willing lay down their lives for the other, but would they give up the other to save lives. I don't think so." Jericho looked down at the floor in front of Hetty's desk. "Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"Or the one."

Hearing Hetty finish his favorite _Star Trek_ quote, Jericho felt a sudden sadness in his chest, knowing that what he had done was hurting her. "But, this dedication to each other is what makes them fight harder and longer than they would normally. They do everything in their power to insure that they never have to make that choice, hell ... they would probably die arguing over who would get to die first."

The tension seemed to break and both laughed softly, knowing that in this business, nothing was certain. Jericho looked at Hetty and saw that she was thinking like he was.

"Sometimes, Mr. Steele, our strongest weakness is also our greatest strength."

"Touche'."

Silence fell on the office and both of its occupants reveled in it for a few moments. Hetty had the greatest confidence in her agents, she had seen them succeed when others would have failed, time and time again. But hearing Jericho's unbiased assessment of them caused her to re-evaluate her thinking. Was their strength also their weakness? Hopefully, they would never find themselves in a situation were they would have to weigh the lives of hundreds, maybe even thousands of innocents, against the life of one of their own ... someone they were close to ... someone they loved.

Jericho knew what Hetty was doing, and he regretted taking her down that road but in this job, sometimes a hard call had to be made ... sacrifices offered. He just prayed that others would make them, not the ones closest to Hetty.

"I know it sounds cold, but you and I have had to make that kind of call ... out of your team, Callen and Sam are probably the ones who would understand it the best, but Kensi and Deeks? I know they have had their noses bloodied before ... but there may come a time when they must choose ... and I know what they would do."

Hetty loved the man sitting in front of her but she'd had enough of his dissecting her team. "And what would you do, Jericho? Would you sacrifice someone you care for, just so the mission would succeed?"

Jericho stared straight at her, his breathing calm and his mind serene. "Depends on the mission." When he saw that this did little to placate her, he continued. "I heard a story once about a man who operated a draw bridge that spanned a deep river. One day this man took his young son to work with him and while the boy was playing, a boat neared the bridge, so the man raised the bridge. Just as the boat passed, a train approached. The train was full of families on holiday, business men and women on their way to work, young couples heading for their future. The man went to lower the bridge but he saw that his young son had climbed under the gears and he would be crushed if the bridge was lowered. There was not enough time for the man to rescue his son and lower the bridge for the train to pass safely. The story goes that the man pulled the lever, lowering the bridge, saving the train, and letting his only child die in the process. When the bridge locked into place, the man ran frantically down the tracks to where his son's crumpled body lay lifeless. As he sobbed and roared in pain, his eyes went to the windows of the train as it passed by. He saw laughter on happy faces, children looking out the windows in wonder, old and young couples holding hands, some even looked at him in confusion ... they had no idea what had happened ... what he had sacrificed."

Jericho heard a soft sniffle come from the woman sitting across from him and hs heart ached for what he was trying to get her to see. His own eyes stung with the unshed tears that hovered there. "What would I do Hetty? I would pull the damn lever and hope to God that I could live with myself afterward."

After he spoke the words, Jericho sat back and stared intently at the intricately carved chess pieces that sat on the table in front of him. Then he noticed the pieces that were no longer on the board, and the illustration was clear. In Chess, you sometimes sacrificed certain pieces to gain an advantage or to make your opponent loose one of their more powerful ones. In the heart of a match, a Pawn could take out a Queen if the set up was perfect, if the player knew what he or she was doing. Sometimes the tables turned and you had to give up a strong Knight or Rook in order to corner your adversary, but his was just a game. When the pieces where real people and their removal from the game was permanent, well ... things got a lot more serious rather quickly.

The antique clock on the partition behind the potted Japanese maple tree ticked away the seconds as the two remained motionless and totally silent, their minds concentrating on what had been said and revealed. Suddenly, Jericho let out a soft chuckle that grew into boisterous laughter and Hetty's stunned silence quickly morphed into laughter of her own.

When she regained control, she looked right at the man she considered to be her own son. "What's so funny?"

Jericho's head had rolled on to the seat back and he was looking up at the ceiling when he spoke, there were tear tracks down his cheeks. "When did I get so philosophical?" He wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. "I mean, really? When did I start taking things so seriously? I must be losing my touch."

"No, my dear, you have reached a point in your life when you've lost too many friends ... too many companions ... and you realize that life is precious ... and fleeting."

Jericho cocked his head so he was looking at Hetty sideways. "But I'm talking to you about sacrificing one person to save others ... letting one die so that the mission succeeds ... like some arm-chair general who has all the right answers to every situation."

"Maybe you have spent too much time operating on your own." Hetty paused until Jericho sat up and looked directly at her, his expression now serious and firm. "You know, when I first assumed this position, Agent Callen was a lot like that ... serious ... the mission always came first. Over time, he allowed others to get close to him and he has grown to see not only the road in front of him but the entire landscape as well."

Jericho lost himself in her kind words, thinking that maybe he had been on his own for far too long and that maybe operating with others wasn't so bad after all. He had to admit, in the short time he had known them, Hetty's team had shown a remarkable amount of professionalism as well as a strong connection to each other. That's what was bothering him though; when you were close to someone, it made it harder to stay objective and make the tough calls. Maybe that's why he had stayed on his own for so long, joining teams for a short time and then leaving as quickly as possible before he grew too attached.

Hetty could see that he was thinking about her words, maybe a bit too much, and compassion for the man fluttered in her heart as she thought to the reasons he may feel this way. "Depending on others is not a sign of weakness ... you know this, you were a United States Marine, you were part of something larger than yourself, you still are ... I think you have just forgotten what it means to trust someone."

Jericho's deep green eyes bore directly into her soul and she felt her heart rate quicken. He took a long breath and let it out in one long sigh, nodding his head slowly as he spoke. "Maybe you are right ... I can count the people I truly trust one hand and I'll have a few fingers left over."

"Maybe it's time to finally stop building walls around your soul and finally let others in."

A sly smirk formed on his lips as Jericho once more glanced down at the Chess board in front of him. "Maybe you're right Aunt Hetty ... maybe you're right."

...

* * *

...

While Jericho and Hetty continued with their conversation, Callen lead the rest of his team by the armory on their way to the shooting range. This promised to be a dangerous operation and each one of them needed to be on top of their game and since they seemed to have a few moments while Hetty and Jericho caught up, off to the range it was.

Sam moved over to the locker that held the long guns: the military grade M4's in 5.56 mm, Kensi's match grade heavy-barrel Remington 700 in 7.62 mm, and a few Heckler & Koch 9 mm MPK5s and G36's in 5.56 mm. He typed in the access code and the metal grate slide up into the ceiling, Callen stepping up beside him and they began to pull out their assigned weapons. They pulled out one M4 for each team member along with eight thirty-round magazines for each gun and laid them side-by-side on the padded table in the middle of the room. Callen glanced over the table for a moment before he turned and pulled out another stack of magazines from the ammunition shelf. When he looked up, he found a questioning look on his partner's face.

"What?"

Sam just shrugged his broad shoulders. "You worried about something there G.?"

"It's always better to have them and not need them than it is to need them and not have them."

Sam gently shook his head in agreement. "True."

Turning to the younger agents who were busy pulling out extra mags for their SIGs, Callen made sure he had Kensi's attention. "Hey Kensi!"

The dark-haired agent quickly looked up from her kneeling position beside Deeks. "Yeah?"

"Do you want your Remington?" He made a move like he was going to reach for the long rifle and he smirked at the irritated expression that appeared immediately on the young woman's face. Everyone that had access to the weapons in the armory knew that they were taking their life in their own hands if they so much as breathed on Kensi's cherished weapon. Callen could remember the one time he had moved it from the cleaning mat so he could field strip an M4; the bruise he had received from her quick jab had only taken a few days to heal.

Her tone was full of warning. "Callen. If I need it, I will get it myself."

Callen turned his head and Sam chuckled softly beside him. "Yes ma'am."

Seeing that he had only been messing with her, Kensi returned to helping her partner place the needed equipment on the table next to the weapons Sam and Callen had laid out.

Deeks let a soft whistle. "Do you think we have enough?"

No one bothered to answer as they began to place all of the items into either hard plastic weapons cases or into satchels, making transportation much easier. Callen was stuffing four sets of night vision goggles into a Pelican case when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kensi whisper something into Deeks ear. Sam was busy sorting the magazines into four separate bags and had his back to them, so he didn't see when the blonde detective turned quickly and pulled a long rifle case out from under the table, popping the latches and laying the top open. When the lanky surfer moved toward the long-gun cabinet, Callen fought hard not to immediately turn and watch as Deeks quickly, but gently, removed Kensi's sniper rifle, the very same rifle no-one-else-on-the-planet was allowed to touch, from the rack and expertly place it inside the foam padding of its case.

Callen dropped his head to hide the huge grin that appeared and he wondered how that had come about. Kensi had even threatened Sam when he had just touched the sling on her gun, but Deeks had just handled the weapon with Kensi's blessing ... _wow, maybe they are finally going to do something about their 'thing' ... about damn time._ He finished loading the cases, clicking the latches closed, and waited for everyone else to finish their work before he spoke.

"If we've got everything, get to the range and let's cap off a few before we head out."

They all nodded in response, their equipment packed and ready, as they filed out into the hallway. Deeks was the first one through the door of the shooting range and he stopped short, Kensi walking right into his back.

"Geez, Deeks! Signal before you come to a stop like that!" She gave him a playful shove before pusing her way past him.

"Better watch yourself tonight Fern, I'm feeling hot tonight."

"What, are you coming down with something?" Kensi snorted a little at her little comeback, she thought it was pretty good.

The three men standing around her apparently didn't find it as funny as she did. "You guys are hopeless ... completely hopeless."

The guys just shook their heads as the brunette sauntered past them, she gave Deeks a crooked smirk and a quick elbow to his stomach, not hard but hard enough for him to let out an exaggerated "oooofffff" as she passed. Deeks held the door, letting the others pass in front of him, but when he stepped in behind Sam, he had that look on his face that said he was about to do something one-hundred percent Deeks. When Kensi turned around and caught the look on his face, she suddenly wondered if this was about to turn into another competition, one that usually involved Sam and her rather overconfident partner.

Kensi was thinking of their last little 'shoot-out' as they stood behind the shooting line, prepping their weapons. They all had their hearing protection in place, so they had to speak a little louder to each other to be heard. Kensi turned her head to her right, seeing her scruffy-haired partner in a heated conversation with the big S.E.A.L. standing in the booth next to his.

"All I'm saying is that the last time I think you cheated" Deeks was saying as he cleared his weapon and drew another loaded magazine from the table and smoothly inserted it into the bottom of his handgun.

Kensi could see the aggravated look on Sam's face as he turned to the shaggy detective. "Cheated? Cheated! How in the world do you think I cheated?"

Deeks laid his pistol down on the padded mat covering the shooting table in front of him. He turned until he was facing the big man. "You know perfectly well how you cheated!"

"I don't think so…" Sam was starting to turn toward Deeks. "If I knew how I did it, I wouldn't have asked!"

Kensi knew she had better step in before Deeks said something rather stupid, and Sam tied his legs into a pretzel. She moved out of her shooting booth and gently laid her hand on Deeks' shoulder. She also sent a hard _take-it-easy_ glare over at Sam. "Boys … knock it off! We're supposed to be letting off steam by shooting the targets, not yelling at each other!"

Sam and Deeks immediately calmed down and lowered their eyes to the floor. "Yes, _mom_," they both replied, rather dejectedly.

Kensi turned her attention back down range when she heard her partner say something under his breath.

"You absolutely cheated."

Sam's neck muscles clenched.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Yeah, ya did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Did too!"

Kensi dropped her head and gritted her teeth. _If Sam doesn't shoot him…I will! _she thought as she realized her hands were beginning to shake.

Next to her, Sam and Deeks were now face-to-face, standing toe-to-toe, and Sam had had enough. "Okay, so tell me Blondie, how exactly did I cheat when you lost the last time you ran your mouth off about who was the better shot?"

Deeks stood up a little straighter, trying to match Sam's menacing stance. Kensi had to admit, she was actually proud of Deeks as he stood up to the much larger man. With as strong a voice he could muster, Deeks pushed on. "You had Kensi distract me!"

"What are you talking about?" Kensi asked from over Deeks' shoulder.

Deeks turned his head slightly, never taking his eyes from Sam, and said, "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about Kens." She couldn't see his face but she was pretty sure he was smirking at her. She moved over to where her teammates were still having their stare-down.

'What?" Sam and Kensi said at almost the same moment.

Deeks just looked over at Sam and explained. "You had her wear that particular perfume of hers that always distracts me. And that's how you won!"

Kensi could feel her anger rising at her partner and Sam turned to look at her, surprise clearly etched on his face as he said, "What on earth are you talking about?"

Deeks suddenly seemed to realize where the conversation was headed and immediately wished he hadn't said anything. But it was too late, so in typical Deeks' fashion, he tried to push both of their buttons. "You know, she had on that Jasmine-Vanilla stuff she gets from Victoria's Secret and you know how that stuff bothers me."

Kensi was absolutely speechless at how her partner knew exactly what perfume she usually wore. She didn't wear it all the time when she came to work, but she did from time to time. How he knew was beyond her and she didn't know if she should be pissed at him or if she should be flattered.

She went with pissed. With a voice that even scared Sam, she growled, "How do you know what perfume I wear?"

With that silly smile he wore when he tried to calm her down, Deeks just looked over at her and answered. "I'm a detective…_I detect_."

Taking a step closer into his personal space, Kensi grabbed his forearm between her finger tips and as she applied pressure to the nerve point there, she asked, "And how exactly does it bother you?"

Sam took a step back, not wanting to be too close to Kensi if she finally decided to kill Deeks. He had to hand it to the young man, he knew how to get Kensi riled up quicker than anyone. He just hoped it wouldn't come to bloodshed, too much paperwork involved.

Deeks let out a little yelp as Kensi pinch caused a burning pain to run down his arm. Suddenly think he may have pushed too far, he tried to extract himself from her glare and her grasp, "Kens, sugarbear…you had it when we went undercover as Justin and Melissa, remember?"

As her mind flashed back to their undercover gig as husband and wife, Kensi remembered that she had in fact taken that particular perfume with her and had worn it several times during the case. She released some of the pressure on his arm but he hadn't answered her last question. "Okay…but how exactly does it _bother_ you?" and she applied a little more pressure.

"Easy, I need that arm to shoot with!"

Another firm squeeze.

"Okay, okay…it makes my nose twitch," he confessed

Kensi released her grip and looked up into the deep blue of her partner's eyes. He had told her his nose twitched while he was sleeping when he was happy. Her mind reeled at the implications of his statement, grateful that Sam had no idea what Deeks was talking about.

Sam looked at the two younger team members, totally confused by what was happening. He saw the soft look Kensi was giving Deeks and, of course, Deeks had that stupid grin on his face. _I'm getting too old for these two! Sometimes I just want to slap them on the backs of their heads! _Turning back into his shooting booth, he spoke over his shoulder, "So I didn't cheat! Just because you have a sensitive nose and can't handle Kensi's perfume, don't whine and say I cheated."

Kensi and Deeks were still looking at each other as Sam continued, "Just man up and admit you lost…fair and square!"

Turning away from his beautiful partner, Deeks stepped back into his shooting position, a silly smirk on his face. "Yeah, I lost…because you C-H-E-A-T-E-D!" he spelled out each letter. Kensi snorted in laughter as she moved back to her own position. She could see Sam trying to keep up his angry posture, but the shaking of his shoulders gave him away. _That's my partner_ … she thought to herself _… he can aggravate the fire out of you one moment and make you laugh in the next. _

Callen had listened to the entire scene, wondering what had possessed Hetty to ever put together such a diverse team. And then it dawned on him, _that's why this team works so well. We are all so different, each member brings something different to the table. We mesh. _A big smile pulled at his lips as he shook his head at the realization. _It works, I don't always know how but it works. We work._

Suddenly, the door behind them opened and Jericho strode up, a large weapon case slung over his back and carrying a mannequin target. Seeing the laughter between Kensi, Deeks, and Sam, Jericho looked over at Callen and said, "What did I miss?"

"You really don't want to know…trust me." Callen said, eyeing the unusual shaped case hanging over the man's left shoulder.

Seeing where Callen's eyes were looking, Jericho shrugged and said, "Hetty told me that you guys were probably down here … do you mind if I join you?"

Callen nodded in approval, knowing that the others would feel the same. Even though they were a tight group, almost family, Callen had immediately felt a bond forming between his team and the mysterious Jericho. Maybe it was the connection with Hetty that had made it so easy. After all, if she trusted him, Callen knew he could too.

Jericho walked over to the last shooting station and set the man shaped target on the floor as he shrugged the weapon case off his shoulder. Callen saw that it wasn't a typical case for a long gun like an assault or sniper rifle, it looked more like a bow case. Jericho reached up and hung his target on the conveyor and pressed the 'out' button until the target had been carried out to the twenty-five yard line.

Seeing the commotion on the other side of Callen, Kensi moved around the back of the line, Deeks and Sam following close behind. They had now pulled their headphones off so they could hear what was going on.

"What are you shooting?" Kensi, her curiosity peeked, asked Jericho as he began to unzip the case on the table. She wondered what type of weapons he preferred, she always could tell a lot about someone based on the type of weapons they carried.

Jericho smiled at the acceptance of the small group, grateful for the friendships they were forming. Without saying anything, he gently pulled his chosen weapon out of the case. A chorus of 'awwwws' and 'ohhhs' came from the group as they crowded closer, trying to get a better look.

Deeks looked puzzled, "A bow?" He had been expecting one of the newer high-end assault rifles that were now on the market, but this had surprised him. He held the questioning look on his face as he watched Jericho quickly assemble the three-part weapon. The upper and lower limbs bolted to the riser with a set of thumb bolts and steel pins aligned the parts together.

"It's beautiful!" Kensi almost cooed, her eyes raking over the curves and lines of the hardwood re-curve that Jericho held in his hands. She had handled, shot, and seen plenty of bows but this one was absolutely gorgeous.

'Thanks, it's my favorite." Jericho replied as he wrapped the bow under his leg. He anchored it with his calf and he hooked one end of the bowstring on the lower limb. The agents heard the wood softly creak as Jericho bent the upper limb over until he could loop the string over the top ear. With the bow strung, he raised it up and lightly strummed the string, a satisfying 'thrumm' filled the air. The weapon had no sight pins, no rear pep, no modern aids to help the shooter with his aim.

"Where did you get it?" Callen asked as Jericho pulled an arrow filled quiver out of his bag.

Jericho turned to the small group and softly shrugged his shoulders, "I made it."

"What!?" was echoed by all four very curious agents.

Jericho looked up at them, catching the odd looks on their faces, he explained. "I was taking an advanced physics class in high school. A lot of energy-trajectory type problems, so we studied bullets and arrows. Since I shoot left-handed, and back then, you couldn't find many south-paw bows, I had to build my own. I ended up winning first place at the science fair that year."

"Sweet," was all Sam could think to say. Kensi was about to start drooling over the sleek weapon. Callen hadn't gotten over the shock of Jericho's hand-made bow. Deeks was …well, Deeks was still confused.

"But it's a bow."

All eyes turned to the blonde man, wondering why he had repeated himself. Deeks saw the confusion in his friends' faces, so he asked another question, "I just wasn't expecting a bow, I mean, it's a bow…pieces of wood and a string."

Callen turned his steel-blue eyes to the younger man, "The bow is one of the oldest weapons in the world. When it was developed, it totally changed the way of war."

'Thanks professor…but this isn't ancient Greece and I was just surprised to see a federal agent using an ancient weapon when so many other modern ones exist."

Kensi poked her partner in the ribs. "Would it surprise you to know that even current special-forces use the bow when they need a simple silent weapon?"

Sam decided to jump in and back Kensi up. "That's true. We even had some guys using them when I was in the teams. They are simple, tough, quiet weapons."

Deeks quickly realized he was losing the battle of the minds, so he opted to surrender. Throwing his hands up, he acquiesced, "Okay, okay. Point taken." As the others turned back to admire Jericho's re-curve, Deeks had to open his mouth again.

"But a bow versus a gun … I mean, come on, no contest right?"

Seeing the other team members get ready to pummel the man, Jericho decided to prove a point. "Well, yes, in some aspects the bow will always fall to a gun," Deeks started to grin, "but in other ways, the bow will always be king."

"What? How?" Deeks was beginning to think he was being had.

Callen, Sam, and Kensi stepped back a little, giving Jericho and Deeks room to have their little debate.

"First, simplicity. Like you said … a stick and a string, not much to keep up. Second, sound. Guns can be quieted, but it takes some specialized equipment and more maintenance. Third, recoil ... a bow doesn't have much and ..."

Deeks appeared to be getting a little nervous about winning the argument. So before Jericho could continue, he jumped in. "But a gun has more power and range. You also have more rounds at your disposal and you can get them off quicker." He now had his arms folded across his chest.

Jericho, however, seemed unperturbed. "You're right." Deeks started beaming. "There is always a trade-off; sorta like a pistol over a rifle, you give up long-range accuracy for a more compact weapon."

Deeks started to flash his _I-just-won_ smile when Jericho held up his hand. "But, I made this weapon in my dad's garage over a couple of weekends when I was fifteen years old. Take a few days and build your pistol all the way from raw materials … then we'll talk."

Deeks looked like someone had let all the air out of him. Then, suddenly, an evil smile formed. Slowly crossing his arms over his chest, he threw his head back and made his move. "Care to make a bet?"

Jericho had almost expected that from the cocky detective. Feigning frustration, he looked over at the younger man and asked, "What kind of bet?"

The rest of the team were ready to punch him for his rudeness to their guest. It was bad enough to push the very dangerous man, but he was also Hetty's nephew … they wondered what she would do to him when she found out. Kensi wanted to tell Deeks to let it go, but Callen and Sam seemed intent on letting Deeks embarrass himself … again.

"Friendly wager … you and your bow verses me and my SIG."

Jericho looked skeptically over into Deek's blue eyes. He glanced over at Kensi and saw the rather nervous expression there, and decided to see exactly where this was going. "Okay."

Deeks was a little shocked that his bet was taken seriously. He knew Jericho was great shot with a pistol, but with a bow? Surely he could beat the older man. "Okay."

"Terms."

Deeks was starting to get a little nervous at Jericho's calm demeanor. But it was too late to back out now. "I'll make it easy on you since your bow can't match the power and speed of my pistol."

If Jericho felt an insult, he didn't show it as he ran a small ball of wax up and down the bowstring. As he waited calmly until Deeks finally decided on how they could best match weapons, he traced his fingers over the string, warming the wax and imbedding it into the threads. Placing the wax back into the bag, he looked up at the detective, wanting to get on with this.

Deeks was grinning now. "Accuracy. We'll each fire off a set number of rounds, well in your case, sticks with feathers, and the one with the best group wins."

Jericho's voice was calm, "Range?"

"Where the targets are now, 25 yards."

Kensi was about to slug her partner for his arrogance and attitude. She knew he was a good shot but now he was just rubbing it in Jericho's face. She had to admit though, Jericho was being a good sport about the whole thing. Maybe he knew something she didn't.

Jericho seemed to contemplate the challenge for a few moments, then he gave his answer, "Okay. Eight shots at twenty-five yards. Best group wins." He stood up and pulled eight arrows from the quiver laying on the bench. "And Kensi, Callen, and Sam will judge the groups."

Deeks turned to his friends, sure that they would be fair and maybe even help him win. The looks that they were giving him made him almost change his mind, but he had started this mess, he had to finish it. "Okay."

And then the question that Kensi had secretly been dreading came out of Deeks' mouth. "What is the bet? Money, bragging rights … or public humiliation?"

Kensi looked up into Jericho's face and watched as cat-like grin formed on his lips. With a wink and a nod to the brunette, he turned back to Deeks, "Public humiliation, of course."

_Gottcha, _Deeks thought as he almost laughed at the way Jericho had fallen into his trap. "So, loser has to…"

"Loser has to stand on the stairs right after lunch tomorrow and sing 'I'm a Little Tea Cup' to the entire mission." Jericho smiled softly, imaging Deeks belting out the children's tune.

To the utter embarrassment of his friends, Deeks responded, "Done, but I get to shoot first." Jericho conceded with a slight nod of his head.

As Deeks moved into his shooting booth, Kensi grabbed his arm, "You idiot, what are you doing!?"

"Don't worry Fern, I got this."

"I sure hope so … my ears are already bleeding at the thought of you having to sing on the stairs." She could hardly hold her laughter in as he moved into position. He placed his head phones on and the others quickly donned theirs as well. Jericho grabbed a pair off the back wall and moved to stand next to Kensi who was leaning against the edge of Deeks' booth.

"Here we go!" Deeks racked the slide on his pistol, chambering a round as he moved into his practiced shooting stance. He lined up his sights and began to squeeze off round after round. Sam stood behind them, counting off each shot. "One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight! Alright ... cease fire, Deeks ... cease fire ."

Deeks lowered his weapon as Callen reached up and pressed the target retrieval button. The conveyor clicked softly as it brought Deeks' target back to the shooting bench. Deeks dropped the magazine and cleared the action his weapon as the team finally got a look at the group he had fired off. The ten ring in the center of the target had eight holes in it. They covered a small area of about six inches, covering an area no bigger than a small saucer.

"Not bad Deeks." Callen spoke before the others could.

Sam pulled the target down off the holder and looked closely at the bullet holes. "I'm pretty impressed there, surfer boy. That's a good grouping."

Kensi leaned up beside Sam and he held the target up to give her a better look. "Wow Shaggy, I didn't know you had it in you."

"I'm just full of surprises there Fern."

"Don't make me hit you again."

Deeks looked over Kensi's shoulder to see Jericho rather calmly looking over the target. "Well, Jericho, what do you think? Not too bad huh?"

Jericho gave the detective a cursory glance, "Pretty good shooting detective. That's a good center mass group, but you were slapping the trigger on you last three shots, that may have increased the size of your group."

Deeks ignored the constructive criticism as he leaned back against the table, a huge smile on his face, clearly pleased with himself. "I was top shooter in my class back at the police academy."

His revelry ended as Jericho looked up at him and coldly said, "That's cool…but now it's my turn." He turned and moved down to the shooting station at the end of the room where he had set up his mannequin target earlier. He reached into his bag and pulled out a well-worn three finger archer's glove. Slipping it on, Jericho flexed his fingers, letting the leather wrap fully around the tips of his fingers.

The rest of the team fell in behind him, anxious to see him actually shoot the bow. Kensi was beside herself with anticipation at seeing the bow in action, her love for the weapon clear on her face. Sam and Callen also wanted to see what Jericho could do, but really they just wanted to see Deeks lose another bet.

Jericho reverently grasped the bow in his right hand while he simultaneously placed eight arrows in between the outstretched fingers of the hand holding the bow, angling them so that they wouldn't interfere with his aim or draw. When he was finished placing the arrows, he nocked the first one and began to pull the string backwards to the left side of his face. The bow made a soft flexing sound as the string drew the limbs back and Kensi could sense the energy that the bow held as Jericho pulled his left hand under his jaw just below his left ear and anchored the first knuckle of his thumb there.

Deeks was getting a little nervous now, so he tried to distract his competition. "Are you sure about this _Legolas_? We could move the target closer, if you're nervous."

Jericho didn't move or flinch, he didn't even seem to be breathing when he softly replied, "No, I'm good … _Shaggy_" And what sounded like a soft whisper fell on their ears as he released his first arrow. In rapid succession, faster than any of them could have comprehended, Jericho nocked another arrow, drew the string back to his ear, and released. Each arrow made a solid 'thunk' as they struck home on the target, but at the distance they were, none of the other agents could see if the grouping was any better than Deeks'. Jericho's form was perfect, the muscle memory of years of practice made his movements seem effortless and instinctive.

After the last arrow flew down range, Jericho lowered his bow, and then gently placed it onto the shooting mat on the table in front of him. This time, Sam reached up and pressed the retrieval button.

Deeks leaned against the side of the booth, confidence in his victory evident in his cocky stance. He hadn't looked up as the target got closer and closer. The first hint that something wasn't quite right was clear on Kensi's face; her eyes grew wider and wider and she appeared to be forming words with her mouth, but no sounds were heard..

_Maybe he missed the target all together! _Deeks thought to himself. But when he turned his head, the expression on Kensi's face was echoed in Sam's and Callen's as well. Unable to keep his eyes away any longer, Deeks spun around so he was now facing down range, and the target that had stopped just behind him.

_Holy … Bat ... Crap!_

"That's just wrong…just plain wrong!" Deeks whined in his surfer's drawl, his eyes blinking rapidly, hoping he was seeing things.

"I'm impressed," Sam chuckled from just behind Kensi.

"Wow," was all Callen could think to say.

"That's just … I've never seen anything like that!" Kensi mouth finally started working again.

Deeks was still blinking in disbelief. When his mind started functioning again, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. All eight of Jericho's arrows had hit the target. In fact, they had, all of them, impacted into the target's left eye socket. The arrows were grouped in an area about the size of a silver dollar, all of the shafts were slightly touching. From a distance, it looked almost like one giant arrow sticking out of the mannequin's head.

Deeks was trying to find words but it sounded like he was just grunting. "What ... how ... that's just imposs ... "

Jericho was still standing at the shooting bench, analyzing his handiwork. "The hard part is pulling them back out…"

The looks on the faces when they turned to him caused him to ask, "What?"

"_The hard part is pulling them back out?"_ Kensi asked, repeating his words back to him.

"Yeah?" Jericho asked, uncertain as to what she meant.

After an moment where it seemed no one breathed, the entire team burst into laughter, well, everyone except Deeks. Callen slapped Jericho on the back and just shook his head. Sam had to wipe the tears from his eyes and Kensi had to wrap her arms around herself to stop her ribs from hurting.

"Why is everyone laughing? This isn't funny … I've been punked!" Deeks didn't see anything funny at all.

Sam blinked to clear his eyes, "You didn't get punked … you got whipped!" That set everyone to laughing again.

Jericho tried to control himself, he didn't want to rub it in too much for the poor detective. He reached up and unhooked the target from its hanger and set it on the mat next to his bow. When he released it, it feel forward and the arrows poked Deeks in his chest.

"Ow…he's trying to kill me!"

Kensi huffed and rolled her eyes, "Really Deeks? I have a feeling that if Jericho wanted you dead, you'd be dead!"

Deeks feigned hurt as he exaggerated rubbing his chest where the arrows had poked him. "Where's the love Fern? Cupid here tries to stab me with his arrows and you make jokes!"

Callen nodded toward the frustrated detective, "I thought cupid shot people through the heart …"

"That could be arranged," Jericho deadpanned as he reached down for his bow. "I'll even give you a running start."

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Deeks gave in, "Okay…okay!" And the team could barely control their snickering. "I still think I got played."

"No … you just got a lesson in always making those stupid bets of yours," Kensi said, trying to get her partner to admit defeat and move on. Sometimes his antics bordered on obnoxious, but she always knew that he never meant any harm. She was also glad Jericho was being such a good sport about the whole thing. If he was that dangerous with a bow, she wondered what other weapons he had mastered. "You have to admit Deeks, that was some pretty impressive shooting."

Deeks finally decided to admit that he had been defeated. "Yeah … you're right. I am actually impressed there Legolas."

"Did you ever read the books or did you just watch the movie?" Jericho asked as he began to withdraw the arrows from his target. When Deeks didn't reply, Jericho just chuckled. "The movies were good, but the books are a thousand times better."

"As long as there's no book called _Titanic_ … I'll be good … ooff!" The comment had earned him a swift elbow to his ribs by his agitated partner.

Jericho glanced over at Callen. "What was that about?"

"Again ... you don't want to know."

Jericho shrugged and finished retrieving his arrows and putting away his gear. He slung his bow case over his shoulder and smiled sweetly at the rest of the team. "So what now?"

Callen nodded toward the hallway. "We grab our gear, get Hetty to the safe house, and let Deeks practice his singing."

They all filed out behind their team leader and the snickers that followed Deeks out into the hallway let him know that he should really consider these little bets he kept making, especially the ones where singing was involved.

...

* * *

...

_A short time later, somewhere in the hills above Santa Monica ..._

Deeks had dropped his go-bag next to the weapon's cases and was standing in the entry-way of the safe house that Callen had picked from the list provided by Assistant Director Granger. To call it a safe house was to do it an injustice. Most of the safe houses they ended up in were abandoned houses on the county's demolition list ... this wasn't one of those places.

The grounds outside were covered in manicured hedges, stone walls, and winding gravel paths that would carry you through the lush gardens. The house itself was three stories high, with several balconies jutting out from under large glass doors and windows. Red brick and large marble blocks made up the exterior of the residence and two enormous English walnut doors provided the main entrance way. The floors were Italian stone, hand cut and shipped from across the Atlantic and their polish reflected every light in the suspended chandeliers that hung high above.

Deeks had walked in and stopped right in the center of the main foyer, awestruck at the beautiful mansion and stunned that this was were they were staying for the night. As the others stopped to stand beside him, he let out a long whistle before turning to look at his partner.

"Never mind about getting the right side of the bed, I think I'll take a room all for myself."

Callen shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "It shouldn't be a problem for all of us to have our own bedroom .. this place has twelve."

Sam just shook his head. "Wow, I wonder who it belongs to."

"It's probably that place that Beyoncé was trying to sell last month ... she only wanted twenty-six million for it." Kensi's eyes were sweeping up the marble staircase that wound its way up to the upper floors, impressed by the exquisite workmanship that had gone into the place.

"Twenty-six million ... and here I am without my checkbook." Deeks didn't even smile when he said it. The rest of the team chuckled softly but then they all turned serious as they heard the click of their leaders heels on the stone floors.

Hetty and Jericho walked up behind them, their faces conveying the awe they felt at being in such a grandiose location. Jericho had changed into a pair of dark cargo pants and a black t-shirt, the soft shoes he wore made no sound as he glided across the floor. Sam was impressed that such a big man could move so silently and Kensi noticed that he walked toe-to-heel instead of heel-to-toe like most people did, his helped in balance and also minimized any noise.

'Wow, this place reminds me of that house you had in Milan, right before those Russians blew it up." Jericho stopped beside Callen and lowered his duffel bags to the floor with the other gear. Turning to the team leader, he inquired about the levels of security as he turned to secure the large front doors. "So, what are our assets here Agent Callen?"

Callen turned and briefed Jericho but the rest of the team as well. "We have four agents in two-man teams on perimeter patrol, they will be relieved every six hours. There are two more agents on the roof and we have Eric and Nell back at operations monitoring the security cameras, ground sensors, and our communications."

Callen noticed Hetty's agitation, and he tried to explain. "They wouldn't leave Hetty, believe me ... I tried."

Hetty went to speak but since the rest of her team had stubbornly tagged along, she regretfully swallowed her words, knowing that her arguments would fall on deaf ears anyway. "Very well Mr. Callen, continue."

"All exterior windows and doors are on motion sensors and there is a safe room in the master bedroom on the second floor. It's the third door on the left down the main hall. That's the most secure room in the mansion and that's where Hetty will be staying for tonight. There are four smaller bedrooms directly across the hall from that room, that's where we will be staying. Since Kensi and Deeks decided to tag along, we will be running a two person roving patrol inside tonight as well. Each team will take a four-hour shift." Callen turned and looked at Deeks who was about to protest. "Sorry Deeks, you'll have to get your beauty sleep another night."

Sam glanced down at his watch before he spoke. "Callen and I will take the first shift ... it's almost 2200 hours ... we will wake you guys at 0200. Then you wake us at 0600 ... got it?"

They all nodded in agreement as they finished collecting their gear. Callen and Sam stayed in the middle of the room while Hetty moved toward the stairs, her small bag in her hands and Jericho following close behind. When he reached the first step, he turned back toward the S.E.A.L. and team leader. "I'll make sure Hetty is settled in and I will come right back down." When Callen nodded in affirmation, the tall agent followed the smaller woman up the stairs.

"When the hell is 0200?" Deeks looked very confused.

Kensi reached down and grabbed her bag and a weapons case. "That's two o'clock in the morning you doofus."

"TWO O'CLOCK? Are you serious? I haven't been up that early since I was pulling an all nighter in law school."

Kensi knew he was just trying to push her buttons, they had been up earlier than that on more operations than she could count. But seeing the smiles it was bringing to the others' faces, she went along with his little pity-party. "Really? You're still getting four hours ... how much more do you need?"

"Four hours is not nearly long enough for this fine male specimen to achieve complete relaxation and rest," Deeks turned and waggled his eyebrows at his beautiful partner. "But if you are concerned, you could drop by my room and we could ..."

Kensi cut off his sentence when she reached for the pistol at her hip. "If you finish that statement, I can assure you that Monty will remain an only child."

Deeks was undeterred. "So, you're saying that you are willing to help me carry on the Deeks lineage? Wow Sugar bear, I'm touched."

"Keep talking and I'll show you _touched."_

"Kinky ... I like it."

"Deeks ..."

"Kens ..."

She stopped on the second step and turned so she could look down at him. She noticed that he had picked up Callen's and Sam's go-bags along with his own, intending to drop them off on his way by their rooms. His consideration for his friends without a second thought touched her but then she caught the playful look in his eyes and the stupid grin on his face and she remembered what she had intended on saying. Her hesitation lasted for a moment ... but only for a moment. She leaned her body toward his, causing him to back up slightly. "How would you like to spend tonight wondering if your sleep deprived partner will shave your head while you sleep?"

The horrified look that appeared on her partner's face was absolutely priceless and Kensi leaned further in and added the icing on the cake. She let her perfume fill his nostrils and when she saw a dazed look cover his eyes, she finished him off with a low seductive voice. "Sweet dreams, partner."

Kensi spun quickly and made her way further up the stairs, her stunned partner finally regaining his senses and he took the steps two-at-a-time to catch up to her. Callen and Sam watched the scene on the stairs from the safety of the middle of the room, shaking their heads as the junior team members voices faded as they moved further into the house. The last words they could make out were Kensi's and she was telling Deeks that he better not be staring at her ass as he followed her up the stairs.

Sam was still looking in the direction of the fading voices, his head cocked to one side. "You know, she might actually shoot him this time G."

"Nah ... too much paper work, and plus, she'd have to take care of Monty if she killed Deeks."

Sam chuckled as he turned to the bags and cases laying on the floor. "Better Monty than Shaggy."

Callen laughed along with his friend as they pulled out their gear for the night. They checked their SIGs on their sides and then donned load-bearing vests that were already stocked with spare magazines for both their pistols and rifles. Hanging their M4s across their chests by one-point harnesses, they turned to face each other and checked to make sure their team mates' gear was ready. In almost mirror-like fashion they reached up and activated their mikes.

Callen called out first. "Eric ... Nell ... you guys read me?"

Eric's voice crackled once but then after a soft thump, his voice came through loud and clear. "Right here Callen."

Sam adjusted his rifle that was angled across his chest. "Test ... test ... test."

Nell chimed in over the comlink. "Got you too Sam ... you guys be careful."

"Always are." Callen turned and nodded to his partner and each inserted a mag into their rifles, tapping them on the bottom to seat them fully.

"Lock and load."

Sam and Callen both pulled the charging handles on their weapons, drawing the bolts back and letting them slam forward ... now both weapons had a live round in the chamber and plenty more in the magazine... ready for whatever came their way.

"So, which floor do you want?" Callen's hand wrapped around the pistol grip of the weapon as he turned and began to walk toward the arched entrance of the long hallway that ran the length of the first floor.

Sam stepped in beside his partner. "First floor."

"I don't think so, I had the second floor the last time."

"No ... I did. I get the first floor this time."

Both men stopped just under the stone archway and released the forward grips of their weapons, each raising a hand to chest height. Together, like they had done countless times before, they counted out loud.

"Rock ... Paper ... Scissors ..."

Sam's face lit up with a youthful grin. "Ha! ... Paper covers rock!"

Callen's face contorted in confusion. "No ... rock tears through paper ... I win."

"Why can't you seem to understand the basics of Rock/Paper/Scissors? We go through this every time." Sam was trying to sound angry, it came off more like tired and whiny.

"It's because you change the rules every time you lose ... I never know what you're going to say!"

"Really G.?"

"Really."

From so close that they actually jumped and spun around, the barrels of their rifles coming to rest toward the voice that had startled them. "Paper covers Rock ... Rock smashes Scissors ... Scissors cut Paper."

"Geez Jericho, you've got to stop doing that!" Sam let out a long breath, his heart beat starting again.

"Sorry guys ... couldn't help myself." Jericho stepped out of the shadows near the base of one of the marble columns that made up the archway, his dark clothing blending in perfectly with the darkness.

Callen lowered his rifle and relaxed a little before admitting defeat and heading toward the stairs. "We need you up on the third floor ... Sam's got this one and I, apparently, have the second."

The N.S.A. agent nodded his understanding. "I'll grab my gear and head up ... is the perimeter secure?"

"The alarms are set and the agents outside will report in with Eric and Nell at fifteen minute intervals, they will let us know if anything happens."

"Sounds like a plan ... I'll be on three then."

Sam watched as Callen made his way up the flight of stairs and Jericho knelt by his bags, opening the longer of the two. Soon, he was equiped much like the others; M4, sidearm, equipment vest but then, to Sam's surprise, Jericho pulled out his bow and quiver of arrows. He hadn't disassembled it when they left the shooting range and Sam saw that the quiver actually held the bow as well. Jericho positioned the quiver over his left shoulder and after a quick adjustment, he eased up the stairs as well. It was then that Sam realized that the only sound the big man had made was when he checked his own comlink with Eric back at operations.

When he was alone on the first floor, Sam turned and made his way down the immense hallway. He moved in and through each room, familiarizing himself with the house's layout and he knew his teammates on the other floors were doing the same. Most of the lights were on and visibility was good, but the experienced agent knew that could all change in an instant and things never went according to plan.

Static rustled over his ear piece, the outside teams were checking in. "Overlook Alpha checking in ... all clear."

"Overlook Bravo ... all clear."

Then the roving patrols chimed in as well. "This is Ripper Two ... nothing moving out here but the rabbits."

"That last one about made you wet your pants."

'Did you see how big it was? My dog would have been scared of it!"

"But you own a chihuahua."

Nell's surprisingly commanding voice interrupted their conversation. "Ripper team ... cut the chatter and finish your report." The security team was made up of some of the youngest agents from the OSP office, it gave them much needed experience but their training was still fresh and they were always gun-ho to get the chance to be out in the field. Nell felt a little bad for chastizing the young men, she was pretty sure that Agent Neal, Ripper Two, had a little crush on her but now was no time to kid around too much and relax their guard.

"Yes ma'am. Ripper One ... all clear to the north and east."

"Ripper Three ... all clear."

"Ripper Four ... the south and west are clear, nothing to report."

Nell clicked on the comlink at her desk back at operations. "Affirmative Overlook and Ripper teams ... call in anything out of the ordinary to operations or to Alpha team... other than that, keep the radio clear."

All six members of the outside team acknowledged and resumed their patrols and then Callen keyed up his comlink up on the second floor. "This is Alpha One ... still clearing the second floor ... nothing so far."

Sam was about have way through his sweep of the first floor, the right-hand search he was performing taking a longer than he liked, the house was just _so _big. "This is Alpha Two ... east side of first floor clear ... moving to the west."

He entered a large room that had large tapestries hanging from floor to ceiling and there were large windows that made up the end wall. When he turned around, he came face to face with himself in the full length mirror that hung just inside the door. He was glad no one was around to see him jump at his own reflection.

The big S.E.A.L. chuckled softly to himself as he moved back out into the hallway and continued to clear the rest of his floor, thinking to himself that it was going to be a long night. _I'm getting too old for this._

Jericho's voice sounded calm and cool. "Alpha Five ... clearing third floor ... nothing but a few dust bunnies. Relax Ripper Two, they weren't that big."

Nell stifled her giggle but some of the security team's laughs came back over the com-system. She heard someone walk up beside her and turned to see that Eric had returned with a fresh cup of coffee in each of his hands. He sat hers down on the edge of her console and plopped down in his chair beside her. He had heard the tail-end of the reports when he entered operations and the last phrase sounded ... well, weird.

Nell knew that Jericho's little joke was his attempt to ease some of the tention that was undoubtably plaguing the agents out at the safe house. She picked up her coffee and took a quick sip before glancing over at her companion, who had that familiar puzzled look on his face.

"Dust bunnies?"

...

* * *

...

_A few hours later ..._

Miles away, as her team grabbed what sleep they could, Chiyome was finally satisfied with the team assignments, knowing that she would have to adjust her plans once they arrived at their target's location.

Knowing the time without having to look at her watch, the female ninja reached under her long robe and pulled out a small electronic device, about the size of data pad. Though the majority of their equipment remained traditional, her clan embraced modern technology as well. The leaders knew that if they were to survive and even thrive in the modern world, they would have to use the best equipment possible and Japanese technology was always on the edge of the fantastic.

Entering her access code, Chiyome waited for the pad to complete its encryption program that would give her access to the latest intel from their contractor. She didn't know how or from where the data was gathered, but her sources confirmed that it was trustworthy and they knew the price of failure.

Chiyome slid her slender finger across the pad, opening up her latest transmission that had arrived only moments ago. _Target has been stationary for the last two hours after moving to a new location ... GPS location will follow ... Chance of successful interdiction is extremely high ... Target's assets are limited at this time ... Window of opportunity may be limited ... Decision to proceed is yours ..._

The excitement that coursed through her body gave her a euphoric sensation that actually made her body tingle. The time had come for her to strike, to once again bring honor to her family's name. Turning her thoughts back internally, Chiyome calmed her soul, her breathing returned to normal and her body reached a state of peace. Peace, oh how her soul longed for real peace, she had searched for it for so long, maybe this night she would finally discover it

The ninjato that rested across her lap seemed to hum with an energy all its own, as if it knew that before long, it would taste blood again. Chiyome ran a hand down the wood scabbard, feeling the power resonating from her chosen weapon. This is what calmed her, brought her serenity, the feel of cold steel in her hands.

Peace.

Soon.

Very soon.

...

* * *

**A/N: Again, I am so sorry that it is taking so long for me to get the chapters out, a dead laptop is just one of the many reasons I could give you. I also combined two chapters into one to make up for the delay.**

**I hope that there are still a few of you out there reading this and if you are, that you are still enjoying it. If you are, there's a little box at the bottm here ... feel free to write whatever you think.**

**Next Chapter: Chiyome and Jericho ... ****_they meet at last._**

**Semper Fi**

**JS**


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